A Sunrise Tale
by Beckylady
Summary: **Finished** Morithawen is an Elven Chronicler and last of the Sunrise Elves on Middle Earth. Her love for the Prince of Mirkwood and a bit of frightening foresight send her on a dangerous quest with nine others. Another 'Tenth Walker' story, but
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

  
  
**There is quite a bit of Elvish in this story. It is a mixture of Sindarin and Grey Company. All of it should be italicized and the translations are in parenthesis just after the Elvish words.**  


"Morithawen! Don't just stand there. The counsel starts in ten minutes. You'll be late and you know how important this is. _Asca, mellon-nin (Hurry, my friend)."_

Mori blinked and looked around her. She was standing on her balcony in a pale green silk dress, looking out over Imladris. She had only been home from Lorien for a week and she often found herself lost in thought on her balcony. She turned and looked back through the beautifully carved, columned open walls into her bedroom and for once she wished for a place to hide. Her heart felt heavy in her chest and she only wanted to find her horse and flee from Rivendell until the counsel was over. 

"Mori? _Lle tyava quel (Do you feel well)?"_ asked a voice at her shoulder. Mori turned her head to look at Luthawen. The girl beside her was her complete polar opposite in appearance. Luthawen resembled the other elves of Rivendell with her long and flowing hair, dark waves falling around her shoulders. She wore an intricate silver circlet to hold it back from her lovely face. Her eyes were like twilight over the forest in late evening, dark and glittering with stars. Mori herself was golden fair of skin, her hair like a golden sunset mingled with gold and deep burnt umber, held back with multiple herringbone braids. Her eyes were light amber and often melted into liquid gold or hardened to burnt caramel depending on her mood. They were dark now, full of distress. 

"I will be fine. Just let us be done with this day," she said with a heavy sigh. Luthawen looked torn. 

"If you are certain, _mellon (friend)._ Now, you must hurry. Put on your shoes, Mori. I know how fond you are of walking the halls in your bare feet but this is a formal counsel. You dare not annoy Lord Elrond. Even you, his foster daughter, can cross certain lines. Now, come," she said, taking Mori gently by the elbow and drawing her into the room. Mori sat silently as Luthawen slipped her feet into soft shoes. Her eyes were drawn towards the balcony again. 

"He is here, then?" Luthawen asked quietly. Mori nodded. Only Luthawen knew the full extent of her distress. Only her dearest friend knew what caused Mori such grief that she endangered her own well being simply by being in Imladris with him. 

"He came only moments ago," she whispered painfully. 

"I know it pains you to see him, knowing he loves another. But you cannot blame him. You never told him the depth of your love and now you are too stubborn to confess. Perhaps the grief is still to near. Should I send a message to your father? You are obviously not well," Luthawen said gently. Mori sighed softly. 

"_Uuma dela (Don't worry)_, Luthawen. I will be fine. Really. I only have to make it through the counsel and then I will be able to put it behind me for good. It is merely an infatuation, Luthawen. I will not lose myself in grief. Now, I must get to the counsel chamber," she said, standing. Luthawen put a hand on her arm and looked at her hard for a moment. 

"_Lle vesta (Do you promise)?_" she finally asked. 

"Yes, I promise. I'm fine. _Diola lle, mellon-nin (Thank you, my friend),_" she said softly. Then she grabbed her satchel and hurried out of her bedchamber, moving nimbly through the corridors.   
  


* * *

  
  
Mori stood just behind Elrond's chair, uncertain of her place in the circle of chairs. Not everyone had been seated yet and she hadn't been noticed beyond a nod of the head by anyone present yet. She was glad of that. She was able to simply observe for now. That was job really. She was a Chronicler after all. It was her job to notice things and keep minutes of everything that happened at these meetings. She noticed many different races and knew her fingers would be stained with ink today from hastily jotted notes. She fingered the leather strap of her satchel and listened to the mingled buzz of voices until a familiar presence at her side made her turn with a smile. 

"_Vedui' muinthel (Greetings, sister)_," Aragorn said with a grin, his dark hair for once smooth and falling just so about his broad shoulders. Mori was used to seeing him come from some jaunt between here and Mirkwood. The ranger was more often dirty and worn when she saw him. She often caught him before he had a chance to clean up and rest, though, because she was desperate to get any tales he might have to tell down in her volumes. She gave him a bright smile. 

"_Vedui' muindor,_" she said, greeting him likewise. They were both fosterlings in Elrond's home, even if Mori was nearly five hundred years older than Aragorn. She had spent a great deal of time with the man during his growing years and they loved each other dearly, not to mention a great deal of mutual respect. Her foster sibling kissed her cheek and then escorted her to a seat beside his own. She was relieved, settling quietly. She opened her satchel and pulled out her lap desk and her ink and pens, balancing the inkwell on the right arm of her chair. Once settled, she let her eyes scan the rest of the chairs and against her will, she zeroed in on the Mirkwood party across the dais. When her eyes met those of Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, her heart literally stopped beating for a moment and she felt faint. The fair skinned, blond elf was looking at her with eyes the color of the ocean at midnight, dark and mysterious. She couldn't read any expression in those eyes but the smile that crossed his face briefly was almost tender. He lifted a hand a few inches from his knee in greeting. 

Morithawen forced herself to breathe, raising her own hand in a brief greeting. She berated herself when her smile wavered. Legolas didn't know she thought of him as more than a mentor and a friend. She could not ever tell him now that he had found a mate. She knew Legolas very well and he would never take a lover unless his love for her was true. None had mentioned the name of this lover, for it was said that he was keeping her identity a closely guarded secret. Mori would prefer not to know. She would suffer in silence and pray that she had not lied to Luthawen when she had said that the grief would not kill her. 

Lord Elrond finally called the counsel to order. Everyone was identified and soon Mori was too busy listening and scribbling in her special form of shorthand to worry about the state of her heart. She was glad of the distraction. She did not allow herself to dwell on what was being said; only allowing the facts to flow from her hand onto the parchment. She was not drawn out of her recording haze until a man from Gondor, Boromir, stood up and began to speak of a dream. She knew she would not forget the words he had uttered so she looked up and watched him reach for the ring in the center of the counsel chamber. 

Only then did it sink in what her foster father had said. This was the One Ring. She was well versed in history. As a Chronicler she was privy to records that none else had seen in thousands of years. She had once spent twenty years doing little more than read in the records' rooms of Imladris. She had journeyed to Minas Tirith on two separate occasions as well, digging in the records deep in the dusty halls of the palace. She couldn't spend as much time there because she longed for the sun, but she had learned a few things about the One Ring, including Isildur's possession of and obsession with the One Ring. Isildur's Bane indeed, for she knew that it had betrayed him to his death. 

She could feel the tug of the Ring's power like a physical thing, a tendril of evil that wormed it's way into the senses and pulled with all it's might. It was easy enough for her to fight, but it worried her that she even felt the pull of the One Ring. When Gandalf stood and began chanting in the language of Mordor, she felt the Ring's power swell and push out in all directions like a dark blanket. She dropped her pen and clutched the arm of her chair. 

"Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris," Elrond said once Gandalf had finished chanting and the world turned golden again. 

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West! The ring is altogether Evil," Gandalf said. Mori reached down with trembling fingers to pick up her pen, agreeing wholeheartedly with Gandalf but understanding her father's annoyance. She did her best to still her hands from shaking. An elf's hands did not shake, especially those of a Chronicler. As she concentrated on stilling her nerves, Boromir stood up again. 

"It is a gift! A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him." 

"You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master," said Aragorn from the seat beside her. Mori had finally calmed enough to begin writing again, trying to get things down as best she could. Her memory was always infallible, but as unsettled as she was she didn't want to count on it. 

"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" Boromir asked with a sneer. Mori's head came up and she felt anger stir in her heart. She was about to set the man straight when Legolas stood up, his countenance no longer as neutral as it had been. Now she could read annoyance on his face. 

"This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance," he said to Boromir, his tone obviously angry. Morithawen was troubled by this. Legolas was always one to control his emotions. Only those close to him ever saw him lose his temper and even then it was a quiet thing. Perhaps the ring was affecting him. She was glad he had spoken nonetheless. This man of Gondor needed to learn a thing or two. 

"Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" Boromir asked incredulously. 

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas said firmly, his eyes dark with conflicting emotions. Mori felt more than heard Aragorn sigh. 

"_Havo dad (sit down)_, Legolas," he said quietly. Morithawen watched as Legolas reluctantly sat down. Mori almost smiled. Her foster brother was very proud. He would not appreciate having Legolas champion his cause. Especially a cause he did not plan to pursue unless forced to. 

"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king," Boromir said firmly, sitting down again in frustration. He seemed unable to look away from Aragorn, however. Morithawen could read him well enough. Despite his words, he was awed and a little afraid of her foster brother. 

"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it," Gandalf confirmed. 

"You have only one choice. The Ring was must be destroyed," Elrond said. The entire counsel was quiet for a moment before one of the dwarves stood up, hefting his axe. 

"What are we waiting for?" he asked in a gruff voice, approaching the center of the dais and lifting his axe. It came down on the ring and the axe shattered into several pieces, the force of the recoil sending the dwarf sprawling on the ground at his company's feet. Mori heard a soft whisper of sound, a subtle chanting on the wind and she feared it was the Ring, which was still in the middle of the dais, completely unscathed by the blow from the dwarf's axe. 

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you…must do this," Elrond said after a moment, looking around the chamber slowly. There was silence again for a moment and then arguments broke out all over the counsel chamber. The dwarves arguing with the elves, the elves arguing with the men and even Gandalf moving into the fray. She couldn't record all the arguments so she raised an eyebrow at her father and he just shook his head in disgust. 

She turned her head back to the Ring. Morithawen could barely hear the whisper of the Ring over the din, but she did. She stared hard at it and could almost swear she saw flames licking along the band. She shuddered. 

"I will take it," came a soft voice from the other side of the chamber. Morithawen's head came up in surprise. The hobbit, Frodo, was standing now, a determined expression on his face. Mori had met him at breakfast. He was a nice young hobbit, actually able to converse in Sindarin with her for a while. She had asked him numerous questions about his home. He seemed so proud of the Shire and seemed anxious to get back. Morithawen sighed inwardly. He was brave; she would give him that. Smart, too, she would wager after their conversation. He knew how important this task was and he was willing to take it upon himself without thought of himself. It was doubtful that he would return from his quest, even if he was successful. 

Morithawen was both impressed and saddened that this hobbit was the only one to volunteer without bickering or worry. He had to repeat himself twice to be heard but soon the arguing stopped and Morithawen couldn't hear the whispering of the Ring anymore. She relaxed a little and made a few notations on her parchment. 

"I will take it…only I do not know the way," Frodo was saying. When her foster brother stood up to offer his loyalty and his sword to the quest, Mori was not terribly surprised. She knew Aragorn cared for this young hobbit and his friends a great deal. He was perhaps the only one at the counsel that could lead such a terrible quest. 

"And you have my bow," Legolas said, stepping forward. Morithawen's mind went numb as her beloved offered himself for this quest. In that moment she had a flash of foresight. She saw herself fire an arrow from her bow into the back of an orc, felling him before he could slash Legolas from behind. Then she fired another, and then again. She defended Legolas' back as he fought a half dozen orcs in front of him with his white knives and his bow. The dark, dusty stone around them led her to believe it was a cavern. A tomb, actually, since there was a broken stone coffin to her right. The vision faded slowly from her mind and she found herself staring at a group of nine people. She heard Elrond title them the Fellowship of the Ring. She decided not to mention her foresight just yet. She would speak with her father about it after the counsel.   
  


* * *

  
  
"What troubles you, Morithawen?" Elrond asked when she asked him to speak with her privately. She told him of her foresight in detail. He frowned in displeasure. 

"The Fellowship is already set, Morithawen. Legolas can take care of himself. Not to mention he will have Aragorn and the others to defend his back. You do not need to trouble yourself with this quest," he said firmly. Morithawen sighed. 

"I cannot ignore my feelings on this matter, _Ada (father)_. Foresight is my gift and it has never shown me something unimportant. If I do not go, Legolas will die. I will not let that happen if I can prevent it. Without him, I fear the quest will fail. Besides, this quest should be chronicled. Better first hand than by the stories told when the Fellowship returns. If it returns," she said quietly. Elrond gazed at her for the longest time. 

"You love him, don't you? Your spirit has faded since you returned from your journey to Lorien. Is it the news of his beloved?" he asked softly, changing the subject. The genuine concern in his eyes, however, was her undoing and she began to tremble. 

"It is unimportant," she said unconvincingly. Elrond took her shoulders in his hands and shook his head. 

"You are the last of the _Amrun'quessir (Sunrise Elves)_ on Middle Earth, Morithawen. Your fate is very important, as is your love. Speak to him, _sellamin (my daughter)_, before your spirit fades away." 

"It will make no difference, but if you wish it, I will. But it does not change the fact that I must go on this quest. Are not two elves better than one?" she asked, steering the subject back to the original matter. Elrond sighed again. 

"Will you stay if I ask it?" 

"No, _Ada_, I will not. I cannot," she said apologetically. Elrond was quiet for a long moment before he replied. 

"The dwarf will not be happy," Elrond said with a wry smile. Mori laughed a bit and threw her arms around the older elf. 

"I do not care about the dwarf's happiness, _Ada_. I can say that I am only traveling with them as far as Lothlorien. I must take a copy of the counsel minutes to Lord Celeborn as it is. I will merely be tagging along in my official capacity as _Kiirar (Chronicler)_." 

"Their journey should not take them to Lorien, Morithawen," Elrond said softly. Morithawen looked sharply at Elrond and then nodded her head. 

"They will find themselves in Lorien before the journey's end," she said after a moment. Elrond looked at her sharply. 

"Foresight?" 

"Just a knowing," she said quietly. Elrond knew better than to question her. Morithawen was gifted with foresight and knowing quite often and never had anything she had seen or known not come true. 

"Keep that to yourself, Mori, unless led to do otherwise," he said softly. She nodded and then pulled away from Elrond. 

"I will keep my own counsel unless it will help the Fellowship on its way," she said. Elrond nodded and touched her face. 

"Now, go. Find Legolas and speak with him," he said quietly. She felt her heart grow even heavier in her chest and she turned with a sigh. She knew if she did not speak with Legolas, Elrond would. Best to do it herself.   
  
To be continued... 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

  
  
**There is quite a bit of Elvish in this story. It is a mixture of Sindarin and Grey Company. All of it should be italicized and the translations are in parenthesis just after the Elvish words. Phrases used frequently will only be translated once or twice.**  


"Morithawen! I have been looking for you. We need to talk," Legolas said, looking up into the tree that Mori had climbed. It was her thinking tree, set within a quiet garden at the far end of Rivendell. She had chosen to come here before approaching Legolas but he obviously had other plans. Only two people knew of her thinking tree. Luthawen and Elladan, one of Elrond's sons. Elladan was not in Rivendell at present. 

"Should I have a talk with Luthawen about giving away an elf's secret thinking places?" she asked with a smile. Legolas grinned, an expression she craved to see. It lightened her heart a bit. 

"Don't blame Luthawen. Aragorn told me you stole away in this direction so I followed. If you didn't already know it, this tree whispers your name. You must come here often," he said. Morithawen nodded. 

"I suppose. There is room for two. You are here already so we may as well share the _talan (platform)_," she said softly. Legolas was quick to comply, swinging nimbly up into the tree and settling beside her on the small wooden seat built high in the branches of the tree. They sat in silence for a while, him surveying the view and she just enjoying his presence and the feel of his hip against hers. 

"Morithawen, what troubles you? Your spirit has faded since our last meeting and it worries me to see your light dimmed," he said finally, turning to look at her. His eyes were dark with concern and question. She sighed softly and put a hand on his arm. It would be better to tell him the truth, lest he find out later from Elrond that she had lied to him about the matter. 

"Be assured it is not your fault, Legolas, but it pains me to know you love another," she said desolately, unable to meet his eyes. Legolas made a soft sound of disbelief, shifting so that he was facing her. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his own. Hers were dark with despair and unhappiness. 

"Do you love me, then? Does the thought that I might love someone else cause you grief?" he asked carefully. His expression was tender and caring. It was too much for her and she felt a tear slid down her cheek. She could not speak, only nod her head. When he leaned in to kiss the tear off her cheek, her heart skipped a beat and she gasped, arching away from him. 

"Do not torture me so, Legolas. I can survive this if you will just leave me be," she said in despair. He captured her face in both hands and held her still. She wept silently, eyes closed. 

"I meant to wait until after this quest to say anything, but I cannot wait any longer. I told my father that I was ready to chose a wife but I refused to tell him who because I needed to ask her first," he said quietly. 

"You are like the sun on a mid-winter day, Legolas. No elf who could have captured your heart would say no to you," she said through her tears. Legolas stoked her cheek and she cursed herself for leaning into his hand. 

"I am not so sure of myself as you, Morithawen. This elf is so beautiful and wise, old beyond her young years and the last of her people. Why would she want the youngest son of a King who will never leave his kingdom? I am just a warrior, a messenger. I have nothing of value to offer but my heart. It took me a long time to find someone that I would give it to. I do not love easily, Morithawen, so how can I leave you be when I treasure you so? Your grief breaks my heart, _A'maelamin (My beloved)_. Please do not cry," he said gently. His words washed over her like a soft rain through the trees and she opened her eyes to look into his, seeing the truth in his words. She was his beloved as he was hers. 

"_Ai!_ It is true!" she said with joy. He smiled to see the change in her eyes. They shone gold and her spirit seemed to flare brighter than the sun. 

"Yes, Morithawen. _ Amin mela lle (I love you)_. Will you be my wife?" he asked softly, wiping away her tears with his fingers. She threw herself into his arms and he held her close. 

"Yes, _mela en' coiamin (love of my life)_," she said. And then she turned her face up for a kiss and he obliged quickly. As their mouths met, Morithawen felt a fire that had always been banked in her soul flame to life. He had awoke her passion just has he had awoke her spirit so many years ago.   
  
** Two hundred years earlier… **  
  
"_Mae govennen (Well met), Kiirar_ Morithwen," said Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. She dropped a respectful curtsey and nodded at the King. She felt out of place and unsure in the stone caverns that formed Mirkwood's palace. A shaft of pure sunlight came through a high window in the throne room and she inched towards it as gracefully as she knew how without seeming too obvious. 

"_Mae govennen_, Thranduil. Lord Elrond sends his greetings and wishes you well," she said quietly, relaxing as she managed to position herself in the sunlight. It was then that Legolas entered the chamber, laughing with two companions as they came in from the forest. What he saw was a Sunrise elf in all her beauty, her skin aglow with liquid sunlight and her hair aflame with the golden beauty of the afternoon sun. He stopped in his tracks, as did his companions, and they all gazed on this new form of beauty in Thranduil's court. 

"Legolas, stop gaping and come meet the _Kiirar_ from Rivendell. She is here to set the records in order. You know that since Celtathon went into the West they have been sorely neglected," Thranduil said. Morithawen turned her head to greet the Prince of Mirkwood. She had seen him once before, as a child playing near the archery fields in Rivendell. He had been there to do some target practice and she had hidden in a tree to watch. He had known she was there all the time and after he was done he had called her down. He had been her first archery teacher. He had only stayed in Rivendell for a few weeks but she continued to train with her brother, Elladan. She wondered if he would remember her. It had been over three hundred years ago. 

"_Mae govennen_, Legolas. It has been much too long since our last meeting," she said with a smile. Legolas seemed surprised by her greeting and he stepped forward, reaching out to capture her hand and bring it to his lips. 

"_Saesa omentien lle (pleasure meeting you), Kiirar_. I must confess that I do not remember our last meeting. If you would kindly refresh my memory," he said with a charming smile. She laughed. 

"I was about a foot shorter and my hair is no longer in pigtails, Legolas. I am Morithawen, foster daughter of Lord Elrond of Rivendell. You were my first archery teacher, if you can remember that," she prompted. She saw the light of recognition in his eyes then. 

"Mori! Of course I remember you. You have changed so much. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you." 

"It is unimportant. I doubt I have much of that little girl left in me now. Now, if someone would be kind enough to show me to the records' room, I shall get started with my task," she said, looking back at Thranduil expectantly. The elf gave her a fatherly look and shook his head. 

"The records have waited ten years, _Kiirar_. They can wait another day or two. My son will show you around our home and then escort you to dinner this evening. We will show you the records' room tomorrow. There are guest rooms in the palace and telain in the Mirkwood. Make yourself at home in either. Now, I will take my leave of you and look forward to seeing you at dinner. Elrond speaks highly of your singing and I cannot wait to hear it for myself," he said and then he turned back to his advisors, leaving her with Legolas. Even his companions had disappeared, leaving the two of them alone. 

"Well, looks like it's just the two of us, _arwenamin (my lady)_. Let us make the most of it, shall we?" 

For the next few hours, Legolas showed Morithawen around his home. He noticed rather quickly that she seemed uncomfortable in the stone halls that his father had delved for his palace. She gravitated towards the late afternoon rays of light streaming in through the high windows throughout the halls. Whenever they entered a room without a window, he could feel her tense up and pull herself closer to him, as if needing the warmth of his presence to reassure herself that the walls would remain still. He kept the tour inside the palace as brief as possible and watched her light blossom as they stepped out among the trees of Mirkwood. 

"Did you bring your bow with you? We could visit the archery field and practice a bit. I'd love to see how you've progressed since our last meeting," he said as they walked under the canopy of summer green. He watched her run her fingers along the low branches and over the bark of the closest trees. He was familiar with the trees around his home and felt the whispers of their approval as she introduced herself to this place. She turned to him, the sunlight catching in her hair, making them gleam like strands of pure red-gold silk. He felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and see if it was as smooth and soft as it looked but he fought it. 

"That would be wonderful, Legolas. I would hope that I've improved a great deal since then. I did indeed bring my bow, but I lost most of my arrows in the mountains when I stumbled upon small band of goblins," she said with a sigh. Legolas was a bit alarmed. 

"Goblins? On the road from Rivendell? Have they become so brave?" he asked. 

"Obviously and not the first time. I think I might have surprised them. I am lucky my mare had nimble hooves or we might have ended up at the bottom of a ravine as we rode down the mountain pursued by the disgusting creatures," she said with a dark frown. Legolas nodded. 

"Indeed. Thank the Valar that you escaped unscathed. As for your arrows, I'm sure you can find the materials to refill your quiver before you return home," he said. 

"That would be for the best. I lost a few throwing knives as well, but those will be harder to replace. But enough of talk of weapons. Finish showing me your home," she said with a genuine smile, gesturing to the surrounding trees. 

* * *

Morithawen grimaced as she pushed into the records' room. There were no windows here and she dreaded the time she would have to spend here. 

"No wonder that Celtathon sailed for the West if he was forced to ply his trade in this dark place," she said to herself as she surveyed the task ahead of her. Her first priority was to light a few torches. After that she began to tackle the job of reorganizing the entire history of Mirkwood so that she could find those records that she needed to update and those she was interested in reading for her own knowledge. She had only been at work for a few hours when she had a visitor. 

"Well, _Kiirar_, how does it come? I know we have not kept things in order for you and I apologize," said the King of Mirkwood from the open doorway. She smiled up at him, actually glad for the company. She detested dark, close places. She especially hated them when she was alone. She stepped down from the stool she had been using to reach the high shelves around the chamber and moved closer to Thranduil. 

"It is not bad, simply organized in a way I am not familiar with. I thought I should remedy that first, since you have asked me to instruct some of your people how to maintain the records. It will be easier to teach them using my own methods," she said with an apologetic smile. Thranduil looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. 

"A wise decision. Now, the reason I came was to ask that you attend the banquet this evening. It is being held in your honor so we can't have you losing yourself in the records and forgetting to come," he said. Morithawen had to suppress a frown. She hadn't expected Thranduil to throw a banquet for her. She couldn't say anything about it now, however. 

"I am honored, King Thranduil, that you have thought of me in such a manner. I will be there without fail," she said carefully. The king nodded and smiled happily. 

"Good. I will send Legolas to your quarters in three hours time to escort you to the hall. I look forward to the singing afterwards. You must pick something to sing for us," he said. Mori barely held her grimace this time. She would have to talk with her father about bragging to the other elves about her voice. She didn't mind singing but the Mirkwood banquet hall was dark and the ceilings were low. She had been glad when Legolas had kept that part of his tour short. The records' room was one thing because it was quiet and she could lose herself in the records. Being in a hall full of elves and forced to pay attention to the things going on around her would be hard. 

"I would love to, King Thranduil," she said reluctantly. That seemed to satisfy Thranduil and he excused himself and left her alone again. She attempted to go back to the records but after an hour she gave up and found herself seeking refuge among the trees. 

* * *

"Legolas, where is the _Kiirar_? She was going to sing for us tonight," Thranduil said four hours later when the banquet was over and the elves began to settle in for a round of singing. Legolas frowned a little. 

"She was? She excused herself almost immediately after her meal, _Ada_. She did not seem…comfortable," he said quietly. Thranduil frowned. 

"What do you mean, not comfortable?" 

"I do not know, exactly. It is simply something that I sense when in her presence." 

"Well, perhaps you should find her. See if there is anything wrong. I do not want her to be uncomfortable in Mirkwood. If there is anything that can be changed, we will try to accommodate her," the king said. Legolas nodded and pushed away from the table. He left the banquet hall and immediately went outside into the forest. He visited the tree where she had made her bed first. He didn't linger there. She wasn't there. It took him another half hour to find her. She had found one of his favorite quiet places, high in one of the tallest, broadest trees in the Mirkwood. 

"Lady Morithawen?" he asked as he climbed easily into the branches of the tree. He stopped a few branches shy of her perch at the top of the canopy and waited for her to respond. 

"I'm sorry if I offended your father, Legolas. I just needed to get away," she said quietly. He took it as permission to continue his climb. He settled next to her and leaned back a little, gazing up into the starry sky. 

"He is not offended, Morithawen, merely concerned. I sensed that you are not comfortable within the halls of my father's palace," he said. 

"Rivendell is so open. I was raised with the wind flowing freely through my bedroom and the sunlight on my face to rouse me from my dreams. I have never been fond of dark, closed spaces. Give me the trees and the sky," she said without apology. 

"How do you stand the records' room, then?" he asked in surprise. 

"I can lose myself in the words that surround me, Legolas. History can hold me where most conversation and good food cannot." 

"Do you not enjoy singing, then?" he asked. She laughed and shook her head. 

"No, I love to sing. I just prefer to do so with the trees around me to echo my songs. The stone does not sing with me like they do," she said. Legolas was quiet for a moment before he turned to look at her. 

"Sing for me?" 

"With pleasure, Legolas," she said softly and was surprised to find that it was the truth. And so began their friendship. Legolas spoke with his father and Morithawen was issued an open invitation to all festivities around the Mirkwood but she was made aware that her presence was not required or expected. She did her best to attend most of them, even if she did not stay for long. She even managed to stay long enough to sing for the King one evening. 

The records were quickly put in order and her true job began in the deepest chamber of the Mirkwood palace: reading and updating the records. She was still only able to work a few hours at a time before her heart suffered too much and she was forced to go into the wood for a while. Legolas, when he was not busy in some other part of the Mirkwood, was often found in her company. At her request, he taught her tracking and hunting skills that allowed her to move through the dangerous Mirkwood without fear. She even journeyed with him as far south as the Old Forest Road on two different occasions. Her job did not allow her to leave often, however, so she often spent her days awaiting his return. It was on his return from a trip south that he brought her firebird feathers. 

"I thought that these would make suitable fletching for the arrows of the last of the _Amrun'quessir_. I know your father carried arrows fletched with firebird feathers," he told her when he presented the carefully wrapped package. They were seated side by side on the talan she had made her home during her stay in Mirkwood. 

"You knew my father?" she asked in amazement. Legolas nodded. 

"I met him once. He was a noble elf, Mori, tall and proud. His wife was just as noble and she had your beauty. Many elves mourned their passing," he said softly. Morithawen wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them to her chest. Not even three hundred years could ease the pain of their passing. 

"They were wonderful parents. I still honor their memories daily and they walk my dreams with me," she said quietly. Legolas reached out and touched her arm. She did not need much coaxing to turn into his embrace. She felt comforted and safe in his arms, something she hadn't felt in many years, not since she had stopped seeking out Elrond's presence when she needed someone to lean on. She hadn't leaned on anyone in ages but Legolas' arms just felt right wrapped around her. It made the memories of her parents' deaths seem so very far away. 

Many years before, when Mori was only six years old, her parents had taken her along on a trip through the Red Horn Pass on the way to visit with the Lorien elves. Elrond's wife, Lady Celebrian, was also with them along with a handful of Elrond's best warriors. Morithawen's father and mother, Anarorn and Lymerawen, were both counted among Elrond's best archers. The trip had been made many times safely but there had been rumors of orcs in the Misty Mountains and Elrond was cautious. His caution saved many elves that day. 

Morithawen could still hear the cries of the orcs as they leapt into the pass. She didn't remember much of the battle. Her mother had found a crevice in the pass to hide her in. Mori had been an intelligent child and she had huddled deep into the dark hole. Unfortunately for her, the opening to the crevice was covered over by rubble from a rockslide, probably caused by the orcs thundering down the side of the pass. Her mother had been the only one to know where she had been secreted away and her mother was struck down in battle. Those that survived to flee back to Rivendell thought she had either perished or had been carried away by the orcs. 

When the party returned to Rivendell, Elrond had been nearly overcome with despair. Four of his people were dead and his beloved wife, Celebrian, was wounded by a poisoned blade. It was nearly a week before he heard the cries of Morithawen in his dreams. He had gone himself to find her, pulling the nearly comatose child from her rocky prison with the help of his sons. Days without sun and little air had nearly driven the young elf mad. He could not hide the fact from her that both of her parents had been killed. She had felt their deaths and it made the task of keeping her alive even harder. It had taken years of careful care to heal her mind and spirit. She still had trouble dealing with dark, close places and craved the sun. There were times when her dreams were haunted with the dark. 

"I do not know what it is to lose a parent, though I mourn my mother's voyage West. I will be with her again in Valinor, Eru willing," Legolas said in her ear. She smiled a little. She would never begrudge any creature the chance to see their loved ones again. 

"I believe the Valar will keep you safe, Legolas. Valinor must await your coming with bated breath," she said, a hint of teasing in her tone. Legolas chuckled softly. 

"No more than they await you. The sun will rise in Valinor but once more, _Amrun'quessir_. It will be a much celebrated coming. Now, what say we fletch some new arrows and visit the practice fields? I would also like you to show me more of your knife throwing skills. You are deadly accurate with those little blades." 

Morithawen stayed in Mirkwood for another two years, training a new Chronicler for the King and spending as much time with Legolas as she could. He became her best friend and would sometimes sit with her in the records' room. When he was there the walls didn't seem so dark or so confining. She would never be happy surrounded by stone but she could be content if he was there with her. She slowly fell in love with his charming manner and his quick wit. He didn't talk much but when he did speak, his words always warmed her heart. Even after returning home to Rivendell, she returned to Mirkwood often, at first on the excuse that she was checking the records. After a while she simply stated that she was there to visit Legolas and no one questioned her motives. 

It was during one visit that the disturbing mess with the dwarves occurred. Morithawen had not dealt with dwarves often, though as Chronicler she had spoken with them occasionally and had even learned enough of their language to understand a couple of ancient drawven texts that Elrond had in his records' room. That didn't help much when Thranduil suddenly decided to lead an army to the Lonely Mountain to claim a portion of Thorin's newly recaptured horde Under the Mountain. Morithawen was really more interested in the story of the destruction of Smaug the dragon than the politics surrounding the march to Erebor. She was familiar enough with history to know that wars had been fought for more noble purposes than greed. But she was the Chronicler for the Elves so she wasn't about to let a battle ensue that she wasn't right in the thick of it. First hand information was much better than second or third. 

Morithawen was proud of her own skills but she spent more time in the records' room than on the practice field. She was well prepared for battle herself if the need arose, but as a Chronicler she was considered too important to put at the battle front. Thranduil tried to convince her to stay in Dale after the army stopped to help rebuild the city before they marched on, but she refused. She was assigned three of Thranduil's best warriors to keep her and her materials safe. She ended up in a camp along the rear guard at first, until it became clear that the war had turned into a siege. Due to the stubborness of the new King Under the Mountain, Thorin, the armies of men and elves were camped at the foot of the mountain for many days waiting on the dwarves to break down and give the men and elves what they thought was their fair share of the horde stolen by the dragon, Smaug. 

As the days grew long, Mori wandered both the camps of both men and elves, listening to the stories being told and meeting new people. She pretended not to notice the whispers that went before and after her. She wasn't vain, but she knew that she looked striking in the armor that she had inherited from her mother. The mithril coat she wore gleamed silver with red-gold trim. Her quiver and bow where dark wood inlaid with more of the red-gold and her fiery fletched arrows made even more of a statement. She was a Sunrise Elf in all her glory. 

"If you don't start wearing your cloak through the camp, _mellon-nin_, you will send some of these poor mortals into a frenzy, Mori. _Vanimle sila tiri (Your beauty shines bright)_," Legolas said one evening when the elves were gathered for feasting and singing. She smiled wryly at him and he stroked a hand over her mithril covered arm. She covered his hand with her own. 

"Anything to brighten the day, Legolas. This land is too barren. I miss the trees," she said. He smiled at her gently. 

"I know, Mori. I miss them too." 

"And so, what is being done to hurry these _avarierea (unwilling ones)_?" 

"Bard is taking the Arkenstone to the Gate tomorrow. Let us hope the halfling is correct in thinking that the _naugrim_ values it above a river of gold." 

"And if he does not?" she asked softly, looking at him with concern in her golden eyes. He reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand, giving her a loving smile. 

"_Lye nuquernuva sen e dagor, uuma dela mellon-nin (We will defeat them in battle, don't worry my friend),"_ he said confidently. She nodded with a sigh before turning her face from his hand, looking to the north. 

"It is not battle with the dwarves that worries me, Legolas. A new shadow is drawing near, a threat that is even greater than the dwarves or even their army marching in from the Iron Hills," she said quietly. Legolas was still and quiet for a moment, as if trying to sense this new shadow. In the end he shook his head. 

"For once I hope that you are wrong, Mori, though I doubt it will be so. Let me know if your shadow threat becomes something definite," he said softly. She nodded and moved a little closer to Legolas in the firelight. 

The meeting with Thorin did not go well the day after and the siege continued for another day, until the dwarf army from the Iron Hills marched into the desolate land. Mori, her hood pulled up to hide her face, hovered with those elves that went to meet with Dain, the leader of the army. Her bow was in her hand, ready to aid if the need arose. She need not have worried. After a few gruff words the meeting ended and the armies retreated to their sides of the field. An argument then commenced between the armies of men and elves, whether to strike the dwarves now, while they were weary from travel, or to continue to lay siege on the mountain and simply keep an eye on the dwarves. Morithawen was proud to hear Thranduil's willingness to forego the battle in favor of a quiet solution. It was in vain, however, because the dwarven army of Dain was eager to have their hands on the Arkenstone and almost immediately began an attack. 

Morithawen was horrified to feel the hard ping of an arrow bounce off of her coat and even as she was reaching into her quiver, she was grabbed by the elbow and thrust back. She looked up to see Legolas' eyes, gleaming dark with anger and determination. Not at her, she realized, but at the dwarves and the battle to come. 

"Get thee to Ravenhill, Mori. Your guard awaits you there," he said. She wanted to protest that she could fight, but she knew that her task was to record the details of this war, not to fight on the front lines. She was, however, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding that was echoed by a black cloud descending swiftly over the mountain. 

"Bats," she gasped softly. Legolas' head came up swiftly. Before either of them could move further, a strong voice rang out. 

"Halt!" 

The cry was that of Mithrandir, Gandalf the Grey as he was known to many in Middle Earth. 

"Dread has come upon you all! Alas! It has come more swiftly than I guessed. The Goblins are upon you! Bolg of the North is coming, O Dain! Whose father you slew in Moria. Behold! The Bats are above his army like a sea of locusts. They ride upon wolves and Wargs are in their train!" 

And so began the Battle of the Five Armies. The armies of men, elves and dwarves were forced to forget their differences and focus on this greater threat, a threat that could very well wipe them all out. Mori retreated to Ravenhill, as did Thranduil, Gandalf and the halfing, Bilbo. They were then surrounded by bowmen. It was on Ravenhill that the last stand of the Elvenking would be made if such were to come to pass. Mori's own arrows did not go to waste. She watched as two of her guard were struck down by goblin arrows and she found herself standing with the other bowmen, defending the King. She was grateful for her mithril coat on more than one occasion. Once the arrows were gone she used her knives, drawing them out of secret scabbards about her person and flipping them with deadly accuracy into the throats of goblins that moved within her impressive range. 

The battle seemed won in the beginning, as the orcs were cornered beneath the Lonely Mountain, but it was an illusion that was shattered when more of the vile creatures spilled over the crest of the mountain and down upon them. The tide of battle shifted to the goblins. Just as the battle seemed lost to the dark army, a cry rang out from the halfling. 

"The Eagles!" 

Morithawen's eyes looked up and she took up the cry with his as the giant eagles from the north were winging down to engage in battle. 

"The Eagles are coming! _Gurth gothrim lye (death to our foes)_!" 

"_Gurth gothrim lye!_" shouted the elves around her. Soon the cry was echoing around the battlefield. The goblin army was routed soon after and Morithawen found herself seated in her tent, writing a record while the memories were still fresh. Outside she could hear the cries of men, elves and dwarves as the dead were recovered. She could smell the stench of the fires that burned the heaps of goblin corpses. Only in her records could she block out the despair and distress that threatened to overcome her. She wanted nothing more than to leave the tent and run the length of the battlefield to find Legolas. She feared to find that his body was among those being gathered for proper funeral rights. 

"Morithawen." 

The quiet, familiar voice from the entrance to her tent made her head come up and she cried out at the sight of his face, smudged lightly with dirt and soot. He had one black stain on him, low on his leggings. It was goblin blood, of that she was sure. His eyes were dark with the remnants of battle lust and the grief of seeing so many of his fellow elves struck down. To her, he had never been more beautiful. 

"_Cormamin lindua ele lle (My heart sings to see you)_, Legolas," she said, leaping up to go to him. She pulled him into a tight embrace. He returned the embrace, dropping a kiss on her forehead. 

"_Lle maa quel (You look good)_, Morithawen. I hear that you defended my father well," he said quietly. She laughed wryly. She felt him relax a little against her and when she looked up, his eyes had lost much of their darkness. She loved the blue of his eyes. They reminded her of the sky. 

"_Lle naa belegohtar, n'amin (You are a mighty warrior, not I)_. I did only what I could. My quiver was emptied to defend that which is dear to those that I love," she said gently. 

"Do not be so modest, Mori. You forget how unique your arrows are. I saw the orcs you felled. All good shots and many at great distance. Your skill rivals that of my father's best archers. Not to mention your little throwing knives. Your skills with the records are just more precious than your fighting skills, since they are so rare. You are the only true _Kiirar_ left on Middle Earth, Morithawen. I do not envy you your tasks," he said. 

"Nor I yours. Now, do you have time to tell me anything from the battle field? Are there any…numbers?" she asked cautiously. Legolas shook his head. 

"Not as yet. I cannot linger here. I just wanted to see you for a moment. As to numbers, there are some keeping tally. They will find you soon. I asked them to retrieve your arrows and your knives, Morithawen. They will return them to you after they have been cleaned. Do not hurry a report of the devastation, Mori. Many have gone to the Halls of Mandos. Mirkwood will be darker for their absence," he said quietly. She nodded and squeezed him close one more time before releasing him. 

"I know, Legolas. I know. I will not keep you, since your own tasks are not done. Go and finish what must be done so that you can rest," she said. He gave her one last smile and then he was gone. 

"_Tenna' telwan, melamin (Fair winds, my love)_," she whispered after him before sitting back down to her records with a lighter heart. Little did she know that that was the last time that she would see Legolas for several years. Word arrived from Rivendell, calling her home as soon as she could get away. Elrond had a task for her.   
  
To be continued... 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

  
  
**There is quite a bit of Elvish in this story. It is a mixture of Sindarin and Grey Company. All of it should be italicized and the translations are in parenthesis just after the Elvish words. Phrases used frequently will only be translated once or twice.**  


Aragorn, named _Estel (Hope)_ by their foster father, was only two when he came to Rivendell. His mother had brought him after the death of his father, hoping to secret the last descendant of Elendil from the eye of Sauron. Elrond had quickly warmed to him, becoming like a father to the child. Aragorn was a quiet child but he was full of intelligence and mischief. Morithawen loved her foster brother a great deal and when she was home in Rivendell often spent most of her time with the young child. He seemed to enjoy helping her in the records' room. Between herself and Elrond, the boy had learned to read at an early age. When Mori returned from Erebor, Aragorn was eleven years old and she had not seen him in almost a year. She never let herself dwell on the boy's quick growth. She would have to deal with his mortality all too soon. 

After catching Elrond up on the events at the Lonely Mountain, Elrond told Morithawen why he had called her home. Morithawen was shocked to learn that Elrond wanted her to become a sort of mentor to Aragorn. 

"I do not want to reveal his birthright to him until he is of age, but he will need all the knowledge we can give him so that he might be a wise man, one who can make decisions for himself and for others. He needs to know history, languages, politics and economics. I would love to teach him all these things, Morithawen, but my time is limited. As _Kiirar_, you will be able to teach him while doing your job. When you travel, take him with you. You have learned much in the Mirkwood that most of my people here at Imladris do not know of tracking and the strange creatures that live in the land. Teach him those things as well," Elrond said. Mori nodded but she felt the responsibility weigh heavily on her spirit. She had foreseen that Aragorn would one day be a great man and that the fate of Middle Earth would depend greatly on his decisions. 

The next ten years were a delight for Morithawen. Aragorn was incredibly bright, even for a mortal, and he soaked up her teaching like a sponge. He quickly became her greatest help in the records' room, making her work go twice as fast. It left them both free to explore the world to a certain degree and for him to learn fighting skills. It was in Aragorn's sixteenth year that she took him to Mirkwood. It was like a homecoming for her. 

"Morithawen! _Cormamin lindua ele lle. Nae saian luume' (My heart sings to see thee. It has been too long),_" said Legolas when he helped her from her horse. She laughed happily and let him swing her around a couple of times before putting her down. It was only then that Legolas took notice of the young man dismounting behind Morithawen. His eyes were wide with curiosity as he took in the Elvenking's palace. He had all of Mori's stories to prepare him for the sight but it was still something to behold. 

"_Mae govennen_, Estel. Morithawen has spoken of you often in her letters. _Creoso (Welcome)_," Legolas said. Aragorn found his manners quickly, giving Legolas a shallow bow. 

"_Mae govennen_, Legolas._ Saesa omentien lle (Pleasure meeting you)._ Morithawen has spoken of you, as well. You home is so different from Rivendell and I cannot wait to explore the halls of the palace," he said with a wide grin. Legolas looked sharply at Morithawen. She just smiled and nodded. As long as Legolas was with them, she could endure a long tour of the palace. As they moved towards the entrance hall, Legolas explained to them both that Thranduil was in the middle of a counsel and would attend them later. And so he took them on a whirlwind tour of the palace and it's gardens. Morithawen, familiar with it all, was able to observe both Legolas and her foster brother. 

Legolas was usually rather wary around men as a rule, but he treated her brother like a honored guest in his home. The Elf knew all about Aragorn. She had spoken often of him in letters. She valued Legolas' advice on the education of her brother. He seemed extremely interested in the man's tracking and fighting skills. Aragorn was extremely fond of blades. Without the keen eye of the elves, he would never measure up as a bowmen. At least not in his own eyes. Morithawen knew that he was a marksman compared to many of his own people, but Aragorn compared himself to the elves, not to men. His skill with a sword was stunning. That was actually Elrond and Elrohir's doing. With their teaching and Aragorn's dedicated practice, he could almost best Morithawen on the sparing field. Not that Morithawen was anywhere near an expert with a longer blade. Give her a dagger or a dirk and she was in her element. But she had enough swordskill to judge her brother by and she knew that in a few more years he was going to be quite the swordsman. 

"…with your sister's blessing I would like to take you into the Mirkwood in a few days time. I'd like to show you a few things," Legolas was saying. Aragorn glanced back at Mori with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. She laughed. 

"He has done nothing else but beg me to let him loose in the Mirkwood to 'prove' himself, Legolas. He does not quite understand the difference between knowledge and experience, methinks. I would be honored if you would take him on a journey. It would actually be an excuse for me to escape to Dale for a time. King Bard has requested my presence to help set up the records' room in his new palace," Morithawen said with a nod. Legolas nodded happily and turned back to Aragorn, starting to make plans for their journey. Morithawen smiled as she watched the seedling of a new friendship begin to grow.   
  
** Five years later, in Rivendell…   
  
** "Arwen! _Vedui' muinthel,_" Morithawen said happily. Arwen, another of her foster siblings, had just returned from a long stay with her grandmother in Lorien. Truth be told, Arwen had been away from Rivendell for almost fifty years. Morithawen missed her sister. They had never been extremely close, but Arwen was always kind to her. The daughter of Elrond and Celebrian was most beautiful and Evenstar, the necklace that held a glimmer of her essence, shone brightly. They embraced and spoke at length before Arwen excused herself to go out among the woods of Imladris. She had missed her home. 

"Morithawen." The quiet address was full of joy and she turned to see Aragorn standing in front of her. The light in his eyes told her what she needed to know. Elrond had finally told him of his birthright. She had known that it would happen soon. Elrond had warned her. She sighed softly and led him into an alcove. 

"You find joy in the knowing?" she asked. The young man was quiet but he nodded. She relaxed a little bit and took his shoulders in her hands. 

"You will make a strong, wise king, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, should the Shadow be defeated and Gondor receives you. I shall evermore call you Estel, for you are the only Hope for the kingdom of Men. I'm sure father has told you to guard your true name closely. There are those that would kill you for it," she said quietly, not hoping to diminish his excitement but wanting only to instill in him a wariness against pride. She need not have worried. 

"He did indeed, _muinthel_. Do not fear for me. I will not do anything until the time is right," he said quietly. She smiled and watched him walk away from her towards the woods of Imladris, singing softly to himself. She recognized the Lay of Luthien easily and her smile faded as a foreseeing came to her unbidden. She almost ran after him then, but she held herself still. The meeting of Aragorn and Arwen was about to take place and in that meeting she knew was both hope and despair. She turned and moved quickly to her quarters. She needed time to think on things.   
  
** Back to the present…   
  
** "Morithawen, it makes me glad to see you so happy," Aragorn said softly. Morithawen touched his cheek gently and smiled. 

"Nothing can temper my joy today, Estel. He loves me." 

"I have always known there was an affection between the two of you, Mori, but I never suspected a love that would drive you to grief. It relieves me that your light has been restored," he said tenderly. She sighed softly and reached up to touched the jewel that he wore around his neck lightly. 

"Should _this_ relieve _me_, Estel? She has pledged the light of the Evenstar to you. Long has your love for her been a driving force in your personal quest to prove your worth in both her eyes and those of our Lord Elrond." 

"And she finds me worthy at last," he said with a weary sigh. 

"But you do not feel that worth," she stated softly. 

"She would give up her immortality for me, Morithawen. I feel both deeply moved to joy and to horror. That she should come to grief or death…" he trailed off, choked up with his conflicting emotions. 

"The choice is hers, Estel. Do not cheapen her gift by questioning her devotion to you. She counts a mortal lifetime with you as greater than the promise of Valinor. I would do the same for one I loved," she said quietly. Aragorn looked up at her in amazement. 

"Would you?" 

"Were the few precious moments I have spent with Legolas this last week my last, I would die happy, Estel," she said softly. Aragorn gazed at her for a long time before leaning in to kiss her forehead. 

"I will bring him back to you, Morithawen, if it is in my power to do so," he said. She smiled wryly. 

"May the Valar protect you, Estel, for the hope of Men lies in your hands. As for Legolas, leave his protection to the Valar, himself and to me. I am coming with you for a ways," she said. Aragorn stepped back in shock. 

"Morithawen, no," he said sharply. She raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Be still, Estel. I only journey with you as far as Lothlorien," she said calmly. He looked puzzled. 

"We do not travel to Lorien," he said. She smiled a bit. 

"I will turn towards Lorien at the appointed time, Estel. Does my presence on this journey trouble you so, _muindor_? I do not wish to travel beyond Lothlorien. I have business there. And I will be able to chronicle your quest as far as I go," she said. Aragorn frowned. 

"It is not your presence that worries me, Mori. I would be glad of your eyes, your ears and your knowledge. It is just…the Ring," he said, his voice hushing to a whisper. She gripped his arms and looked into his eyes. 

"The Ring concerns me, yes, but not as it concerns you. It cannot whisper corruption in my ears, Estel, not that I would listen to. But my presence on this quest is needed. Trust me in that, at least," she said quietly. His sharp eyes studied her face. 

"What have you foreseen, _muinthel_?" 

"Leave it, Estel. Time will reveal all that you need to know," she said sternly. He sighed. 

"Does Legolas know?" 

"Yes." 

"And his reaction?" 

"He has asked that I reconsider my plans, but he accepts that I will do what I think is right. He trusts me. For that I am eternally grateful. Now, the reason I came to you was to ask you to be certain to attend dinner this evening. Legolas and I have an announcement to make," she said quietly. Aragorn looked at her for a moment and then his mouth curved into a wide smile. 

"I will be there, _muinthel_. I would not miss the announcement of your betrothal," he said with a joyous laugh. He picked Morithawen up and swung her around happily. She couldn't hold back a laugh of her own. Her joy was begging to burst forth and she saw no reason to stop it. There would be time enough for calm, somber reflection later. 

* * *

Morithawen slipped the rust colored silk shirt over her head and adjusted the ribbons that laced it closed down the front. Over that went her golden brown suede jerkin and her black forearm bracers, then her quiver strap. She slipped her black boots on over the rust colored leggings and laced them up the back tightly. Over the whole ensemble went a cloak the color of the forest in late autumn, a shifting multitude of rust, gold and greens that seemed to change subtly as if ruffled by a pleasant breeze. It had been her mother's and the making of the cloth was a mystery, even to Lord Elrond's best seamstresses. The cloak brooch was the red-gold sun of her people inlaid with a rust hued quill that bespoke of her office as _Kiirar_. 

"_Lle naa vanima, A'maelamin (You are beautiful, my beloved)._" 

Morithawen turned to smile at Legolas. He was seated on her bed, legs folded under him, sorting through her weapons. She reached for her knife case and winked at her betrothed before she began to slip the small, sharp weapons into their various sheaths about her body. Legolas watched this process with bright, curious eyes. They widened a couple of times. 

"That is rather clever. I never would have thought to put a knife there," he said in an impressed tone. She chuckled. 

"All it takes is a few clever folds of cloth and only the boldest inspector will find it," she said. Legolas nodded and tilted his head. 

"Eighteen knives. I didn't think it possible without something seeming obvious," he said with a shake of his long blond hair. Morithawen reached for her belt then and grinned. 

"Tell no one what you know, my betrothed. You are the only one to know my best guarded secrets. As for obvious, that's what the white knife and bow are for. It draws the attention away from any not-so-obvious hiding places," she said. The belt had another eight small knives along the back of it, easily hidden by her cloak. The only knife that was in plain sight was a single, long white knife sheathed at her hip. 

"Some help with my quiver, love?" she asked then. Legolas stood gracefully and moved to fasten her quiver to her back. 

"Are you sure I cannot talk you into taking the High Pass to Lorien? We do not know what the Ring will attract on our quest," he said, giving her one last chance to change her mind. She shook her head and turned to look at him, a tender smile on her face. 

"Call it my excuse to spend a few weeks with you, Legolas. There is no way to tell how long this quest will last and I treasure each second with you, even if we spend it focused on the danger around us. Just being near you will be a joy, even if we end up in battle together," she said quietly. He reached out to touch her face and she turned her face to kiss his fingers. 

"I pray that we do not have to worry about battle so soon on our journey. Doubtless the servants of Sauron will bring forces against us before the end, but by the Valar, I hope to avoid the battle as long as possible," he said. She nodded her agreement and welcomed his tender kiss before she took her small pack from the bed and they left her bedroom to go and join the rest of the Fellowship. 

* * *

"Aragorn, what is the meaning of this? A female has no business on this journey. We'll have enough trouble keeping the hobbits out of trouble," Boromir said during the second day of walking. Aragorn looked up with one eyebrow raised. He had noticed Boromir's tendency to stare at Morithawen. He was familiar enough with his own race to see the awe in Boromir's eyes, along with the contempt that he felt having a delicate looking female on the journey. He had a lot to learn about the elves. 

"Truth be told, Boromir, I am glad of her presence. Do not underestimate her. You need not sit up during her watch. She is quite capable. The white knife is not for decoration, my friend. Not to mention she is nearly as good a marksman as Legolas," he said, throwing a glance back at Morithawen. She was walking with Frodo and Gandalf, chatting. There were times that Aragorn was amazed by how much Morithawen talked. She was one of the most talkative elves he had ever had the privilege of knowing. Granted that didn't make her terribly chatty, but she wasn't as reserved as say, Legolas, around other races. 

"If you say so, Aragorn, but I will still feel better when she turns north at the Gap of Rohan," the other man said darkly. Aragorn just sighed and left the conversation alone. Morithawen could hold her own, of that he wasn't worried. He just hoped she didn't have any occasion to demonstrate her talents to Boromir before she turned towards Lorien. Unfortunately, the occasion did present itself a few days later. 

Aragorn had found a shallow cave for them to camp in for the night. Legolas and Aragorn, both knowing of Morithawen's distaste for small, enclosed places, easily relinquished their watches to Morithawen. Boromir noticed the switch and watched as Morithawen took an apple and left the cave after exchanging a tender look with Legolas. After that Legolas settled back with his arms crossed over his chest and went into the motionless, open-eyed rest of the elves. Boromir then watched Aragorn wrap himself up in blankets and almost immediately start snoring softly. Gandalf was also asleep as far as he could tell. The hobbits were all whispering amongst themselves but they didn't seem distressed. He couldn't believe that they could feel comfortable enough to sleep with a woman on watch. Despite Aragorn's words, what he knew of Elf women tended towards beautiful and delicate. He fumed as he pulled off the heaviest of his gear, laying aside his sword, shield and cloak. Then he went out of the cave on quiet feet. 

Morithawen sat crosslegged on a boulder that was strategically located so that she could see both directions down the path they were taking through the foothills of the Misty Mountains. Her back was to the cave entrance, which was several meters away, but she heard Boromir follow her. She paid him no heed. If he wished to worry himself over her skills or the lack of them, it was his own problem. She pulled one of her knives and used it to cut herself a piece of apple as she sang softly to the moon. 

Boromir couldn't believe it. She was sitting on top of that rock singing as if she didn't have a care in the world. He was about to say something to her when he noticed that her back went ramrod straight and she stopped her singing. At first he thought she must have just noticed he was there, but he could discern the curious tilt of her head in the moonlight, as if she was listening for something in the distance. He paused, straining his ears. It was almost a full minute before he heard what it was that had made her pause. 

Morithawen carefully tucked away her apple and pulled another small knife from the back of her belt. She flipped both knifes a couple of times and waited. She heard Boromir go still at the foot of her perch and knew the exact moment that he realized there were goblins headed towards them on the pass. It was easy to tell because he scrambled away from the boulder with impressive sped, all the while yelling at her to get to the cave. She sighed as the steps of the two goblin scouts sped up at the sound of Boromir's cry. 

"Orcs! There are orcs on the pass," Boromir said as he sprinted back into the cave to grab his sword. That was enough to rouse everyone except the hobbits. He didn't let that worry him. Let Gandalf wake them up. He had to go defend the Fellowship. He noticed Aragorn leaping to his feet, sword in hand and he wasn't surprised to see Legolas dart out of the cave even before he did. They all ran out onto the pass, expecting to find a large party of goblins marching towards them. What they actually saw was a little different. 

Morithawen bent over the two scouts, pulling her knives from their throats and carefully cleaning them on the rags that the goblins counted for clothes. She turned her head to look at the gathering of men and elf, the moonlight shimmering down her multitude of red-gold braids to create a soft light. Her eyes were like bright amber flames in the dark. 

"Two scouts. From their grumblings about not having eaten in two days, I'd say we are safe from any large party for now," she said quietly. Gimli, who was just now arriving with his axe in hand, grumbled. 

"You woke us up for two dead orcs, Boromir? Next time, just let me sleep," he said before tramping back to the cave. Aragorn turned to Boromir with a look of exasperation. 

"Boromir, help Morithawen do something with the bodies and then come to bed. She will alert us if more trouble comes," he said. Boromir nodded to acknowledge that he had heard, but his eyes were still on Morithawen and the two dead orcs. He saw Legolas walk over and inspect one of the bodies before he and Morithawen spoke quietly to one another in Elvish. Legolas touched her cheek gently before he joined Aragorn again and they both went back to the cave. Gandalf met them at the entrance and was quickly put at ease. Boromir finally walked over to Morithawen. He looked from her previous perch to the orcs, judging the distance to be a good twenty meters. 

"Help me drag these things off the pass, Boromir. There is a small ravine about twenty meters to the left," Morithawen said quietly, looking at him with those bright eyes. Boromir couldn't meet her eyes for long. Nothing else was said as they grabbed the bodies and dragged them off the pass. He tried not to notice that Morithawen strained less than he did in moving the carcasses. After that he made himself go back into the cave and lie down. His rest was troubled, however, by the image of Morithawen's eyes, full of amusement and pity, burned into his brain.   
  
To be continued... 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

  
  
**There is quite a bit of Elvish in this story. It is a mixture of Sindarin and Grey Company. All of it should be italicized and the translations are in parenthesis just after the Elvish words. Phrases used frequently will only be translated once or twice.**  


"What's this I hear about some excitement last night, Aragorn?" Frodo asked over breakfast. Gimli had been grumbling about being woke from a pleasant dream to go watch Morithawen clean her knives of orc blood. Aragorn glanced across the fire at Morithawen and Legolas. They were deep in quiet conversation, of that he was certain, but their lips did not move and no sound came from their mouths. Aragorn was glad they had a way to communicate that couldn't be overheard or interrupted by the rest of the party. They were so recently betrothed but they did not have a chance to act out their courtship on this journey. It was too important to stay alert at all times and both elves were taking their jobs as the eyes and ears of the Fellowship very seriously. 

"A pair of orc scouts, Frodo. Morithawen dealt with the threat quickly," he said. Frodo glanced over at the elves with a thoughtful expression. 

"She looks so fragile, it is hard to think of her as a warrior," he said finally. Morithawen looked over at him with a wry smile before returning her eyes to Legolas, saying nothing aloud. Aragorn chuckled. 

"Looks can be deceiving Frodo. Trust me, she is well prepared to face any attacks we might stumble into. She taught me much of what I know of weaponry, but even I have not mastered some of her talents. She can best me with a knife and with a bow," he said, bragging on his sister. She would never speak of her talents openly but he had no such qualms. His words caused a stir in the group however, especially from Boromir. 

"Taught you?" he asked in surprise. Aragorn pinned Boromir with a glare. 

"She has been my mentor in many things, Boromir. She is much older and wiser than you or I will ever be. She is the _Kiirar_, the Chronicler of Records. She has read about and recorded much of the history of Middle Earth. She has more knowledge than elves many times her age. She could probably tell you tales of your forefathers that even you do not know," Aragorn said sternly. Morithawen and Legolas both looked up from their silent conversation. 

"Aragorn, this is not necessary," Morithawen said softly. Aragorn shook his head, looking from Boromir to his sister and back again. 

"Yes, I think it is. It is dangerous for any in the Fellowship to doubt the abilities of his, or her, companions. Doubt causes worry and fear and we do not need more of that on this journey than the Ring itself can instill. We must all understand that we can count on one another in a fight. We must all learn that you are not a weak ally, _muinthel_. We must respect the ability of our friends to protect us when the need arises," he said firmly. 

"That may be true, _muindor_, but I would not cause friction in the Fellowship. I must earn my respect, Estel. That will not come from words, but only with time," Morithawen said gently. There was silence around the fire for a moment before one of the hobbits, Merry, spoke up. 

"Maybe you could show us, give us a demonstration of your skills. That would put many minds at ease, I am sure." 

"We do not have time or need for an exhibition, Meriadoc. Hopefully the need will not arise for me to use my skills on this journey. Pray for a quiet quest," she said sternly. Boromir sat back with a smirk, casting a glance at Aragorn that clearly said had expected as much from the elf. Legolas, noticing this, put a hand on Morithawen's arm. She looked up at him in surprise. 

"There is no pride in easing the minds of your companions, A'maelamin. Aragorn is right in that," Legolas said softly. Morithawen stood up, shaking off Legolas' arm. 

"I am in the midst of a group of males that think of nothing but honor and action. Perhaps you are right and a demonstration would put you all at ease, but will not become a show for you all to watch," she said, the fire of irritation flashing in her eyes. Legolas stood with her, putting his hands on his shoulders and forcing her to look at him. 

"You are correct in realizing that respect cannot be earned through words but only through actions. I agree that you should not make a spectacle of yourself, either. There is another option, however. Teach them. The hobbits are not schooled in the use of knives or swords or bows. Teach them enough to defend themselves and through the passing of knowledge they will see your skill," he said coaxingly. Morithawen looked at him for a long moment before she slipped from his hands and sat back down. Her sigh was deep and resigned. 

"Perhaps you are right. If the hobbits wish, I will teach them to use a small knife and to throw them if they have the patience to learn. The swordplay I will leave to the Men," she said quietly. The hobbits all immediately expressed an interest and she nodded. 

"When we stop for the day I will start. We have lingered here too long as it is, my friends. The sun moves swiftly and times slips through our fingers," she said, tossing a glance at the sky. The others quickly agreed and camp was quickly packed up and the journey began again. 

"_Are you angry with me, melamin?_" asked Legolas in her mind as they followed a well worn path. He was taking up the rear guard while she was walking with Gandalf at the head of the column. She sighed softly. 

"_No, Legolas. You are right. Teaching the hobbits is a fine way to show them that I know my way around a blade without simply showing off. I only hope that Boromir takes heed of our sessions. It is mostly his mind that Aragorn wishes to ease. I love my foster brother, but he has the pride of a Man." _

"Yes, but that pride is not in himself but in you. Is it so wrong for him to defend you to this human? You could best him with a flick of the wrist and yet he thinks you inferior." 

"Boromir is full of pride and confidence, Legolas. To put myself above him would only cause more grief between us. I do not wish to prove myself a better warrior than he, only capable of defending what I care for." 

"The task will be easier than you assume after last night. He saw that you were able to hold your own in the face of danger. Time will bring the respect you wish for, that I can assure you." 

"I hope so, Legolas. We all have enough to worry about protecting the hobbits without Boromir thinking he must guard me as well." 

"True. All will be well, Mori." 

"I hope so. Now, I wanted to talk with you about Gimli. Really, Legolas, the two of you bicker like children. You are both part of this Fellowship. All this talk about learning to respect other beings makes me realize that we need to let Gimli earn his as well." 

"He is a dwarf, Morithawen. They are dirty and stubborn and loud. His kind have no respect for the earth, the trees. He would just as soon cut down the mighty oak for firewood as to admire its beauty and its song," Legolas thought with a dark tone. Morithawen sighed again. If she had not foreseen the friendship that would develop between Legolas and Gimli she would have been distressed. She agreed with Legolas about the dwarves and their disrespect of nature, but one could not completely fault the dwarves. They were children of the earth, born under rock and stone. They did not perceive the forests and streams as the elves that lived among them did. She had read about the deterioration of the relationship between elves and dwarves through the ages and it saddened her. 

"_Do not judge Gimli by his fathers and forefathers. Give him a chance to show his worth, melamin. It might surprise you how quickly you become friends._" 

"_Friends? With a dwarf?_" asked Legolas in disbelief. Morithawen laughed softly both in her mind and aloud, causing Gandalf to look at her strangely and Boromir to stop in his tracks at the musical sound. Morithawen did not notice this and continued on her way. Gandalf dropped back to speak with Boromir as she took the lead of the Fellowship for a time. 

"_Your pride, melamin, needs to be tempered with a dose of humility. Under all that hair and the armor and the axes lies a valiant soul. He will both amuse you and surprise you, given the chance. Do not judge without giving him a chance, Legolas. Practice what you preach._" 

Legolas was quiet for a long time after that. Morithawen could only hope he was giving her words serious thought. 

* * *

"Spies of Sarumon. The passage south is being watched," Gandalf said as Morithawen pulled herself out from under the rock she had chosen as her hiding place when the flock of crebain from Dunland had flown over. She felt a sense of foreboding sweep over her like a dark cloud when Gandalf turned and looked to the north. His next words made her stiffen. 

"We must take the pass of the Caradhras." 

Morithawen felt her heart sink in her chest. This would be a test for her, for she had not stepped foot on the Redhorn Pass since her childhood, even when it would have made her travel between Rivendell and Lorien easier. She always took the long way around. None that traveled with her had ever questioned her reasoning for they had always been either elves or Aragorn and all of those knew of her story. But now she had little choice but to face her fears. 

"Morithawen? Are you well?" asked Frodo. The hobbit had noticed the subtle distress on her face and the sudden tenseness of her body. She managed a smile for him and nodded. 

"I am well, Frodo. Do not trouble yourself. I am just worried about the weather atop Caradhras. If the mountain wakes, it could hinder us," she said quietly. Frodo looked concerned but she shook her head. 

"Trust Gandalf and Aragorn. They will lead us over the pass if they can," she said. Frodo still looked uncertain but he finally nodded and the trek to the high mountain pass began. Legolas made it a point to stop beside her and make sure she was okay with the passage. She had quickly dismissed him to the rear guard with assurances that she was perfectly fine. She was glad Aragorn seemed to forget that Caradhras might disturb her. She was trembling inside as they began to encounter the first of the snowdrifts. Soon the mortals were struggling in snow to their knees. Morithawen turned back from her position near the front of the line to see Boromir standing still, holding up a chain that glinted in the sun. Her heart lurched with fear as she recognized the chain that Frodo wore about his neck with the One Ring on it. The small, golden band glinted in the sun. 

"Tis a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. So small a thing…" Boromir said quietly. Almost too quietly for even her elven ears to pick up. She exchanged a worried look with Gandalf. 

"Boromir! Give the ring to Frodo," came a stern voice. Morithawen noticed Aragorn, standing beside Frodo with his hand on his sword. Boromir started violently at the voice, as if it shaken out of a trance. Very slowly, as if moving through water, he walked down and handed the ring to the hobbit. Morithawen relaxed, as did every other person in the Fellowship. They all turned their eyes back towards the mountain and moved forward once more. Morithawen thought about Boromir as she stepped lightly. 

The warrior of Men did not doubt her ability to defend herself or those in the company anymore. Two lessons for the hobbits and a skirmish with two mountain trolls a week before had finally eased his fears. It was nice to be able to talk with him freely without fear of his derision. She actually enjoyed talking with him about his life and the developments in Gondor. She hadn't been there in over fifty years and he was animated when he spoke of his home. But she was worried about him. He was the only one in the Fellowship that seemed to dwell on the Ring and its power. She glanced back at him for a moment and nodded. She received a small smile in return. That eased her mind a little bit. 

A few hours later, the wind was howling about her, whipping her braids about and driving the blinding snow into her eyes. She ducked her head a bit and looked back. She was padding over the snow with no trouble but her mortal companions were struggling along in snow up to their waists, or in the case of the hobbits to their necks. Aragorn and Boromir had picked up two hobbits each, helping them trudge through the snow as Gandalf walked before them, breaking a path with his staff. Behind the men was Gimli, struggling along with Bill the pony's lead rein in his hands. At the rear trod Legolas. On their left was a sheer rock wall and to their right, less than six feet from the wall, was a drop into space. Morithawen tended to walk as close to the middle of the path as possible. 

"_How do you fare, melamin?_" Legolas asked in her mind, concern lacing his tone. 

"_I am well, Legolas. The Caradhras of my memory was dark and foreboding but there was no snow and no wind. It does not haunt so close,_" she said with relief obvious in her mental tone. Legolas chose that moment to move past the struggling mortals and walk by her side for a moment. He reached down and took her hand, entwining their fingers for a moment. 

"Stay strong, _melamin_. Look at it this way. No orc will be in the midst of this storm," he said aloud over the howling wind. She squeezed his hand a moment before letting go and tilting her head and peering out into the storm. A deep voice seemed to penetrate the blasting snow, chanting in High Elven. She frowned deeply at the words, for it sounded as if someone was bidding the mountain under them to wake. Legolas let go of her hand and moved further out on the narrow path, peering out over the deep chasm. 

"There is a fell voice on the air," he stated loudly enough that Gandalf could hear him. 

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf exclaimed. Aragorn exclaimed that they needed to turn back but Gandalf was reluctant. Morithawen stepped back towards the rock wall as the wizard stepped up beside Legolas. She shuddered as Gandalf began chanting in counter to Saruman. The flash of lightning and the sound of the mountain rumbling above them made Morithawen look up. Her cry of warning made Legolas look up as well. When he saw the wall of snow and rock tumbling down, he reached out and grabbed Gandalf by his robes, pressing him against the rock wall just in time to duck under the blanket of snow and ice that came down on top of the Fellowship. 

There was a moment of silence on the mountain side as the wind whipped across the heaps of snow and ice, no sign of movement obvious. The first sign of life was the head of Legolas as he pushed himself free of the prison of snow. He quickly dug himself out and went to help the men unbury the hobbits and the dwarf. 

"We must make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir was saying to Gandalf. Aragorn jumped in with an argument. 

"That would take us too close to Isengard." 

"If we cannot go over the mountain, then let us go under it. Let us go through the Mines of Moria," interjected the dwarf. Legolas, who had just pulled him up out of the snow, looked over at Gandalf and saw what he thought might be fear in the old wizard's eyes. Why would the thought of going through the mines cause him fear? Legolas thought that the unfriendly mountain suddenly seemed a little less foreboding. 

"We cannot stay here. This will be the death of the hobbits," Boromir said in desperation as he pulled Merry and Pippin up against him. Legolas spared a concerned glance for the shivering, blue tinged halflings before he noticed that someone in the party hadn't made an appearance above the snow. 

"Morithawen?" he cried, moving to the place where she had last been and shoving aside armloads of snow. The snow was piled a little higher here than the rest of the path and he had to dig deep before he found the tip of her bow. He soon found himself helped by many other hands as they dug out the female elf. Legolas laid her on the snow as the others backed away, running his hands over her face and through her hair. For a moment, he imagined that her skin was cold and her light dimmed. It caused a moment of panic in him that he forced down. Almost immediately, her eyes flew open and they were dark burnt caramel with fear and panic and she began to babble in elvish about the evil mountain and the dark and the loneliness beneath the snow. Legolas pulled her close and whispered gentle comfort until she calmed. It only took her a few moments to recover her usual composure and she sat up out of his arms, looking a little ashamed by her outburst. 

"Let the Ringbearer decide which direction we take," Gandalf was saying as the others in the party quickly refocused on their dilemma, not giving Morithawen time to dwell on her small lapse in Elven calm. 

"We will go through the mines," Frodo said after a moment, actually sounding sure of his decision. She was not at all pleased with the decision. Her urge was to leave them all there and run across the snow to Lorien. Without the hobbits and Men to slow her down, she knew she could make it. But it was only a fleeting thought, driven by her fear of the Mines. She had visited Moria once in her long life, with an older Elf that claimed it to be a good way to get across the mountains quickly. They had reached the doors, only to be thwarted because her companion hadn't known the password to open the silent stone doors. She had been glad. Four days in the dark, surrounded by stone, would likely break her. She couldn't sit for a full two days in the palace at Mirkwood without running for the trees. But she would be forced to endure the test, for she now knew that Moria was where her foresight had lead her, where she must help defend the life of her betrothed and quite possibly the lives of the rest of the Fellowship.   
  
To be continued... 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

  
  
**There is quite a bit of Elvish in this story. It is a mixture of Sindarin and Grey Company. All of it should be italicized and the translations are in parenthesis just after the Elvish words. Phrases used frequently will only be translated once or twice.**  


Morithawen stared in disbelief as the entrance to the mines was covered over by a hail of stone and dust. The rumble of sound and the shower of dust was familiar to her, for an elf's memory was a reliable thing, never failing. She fought back a bubble of hysterical laughter as she and her companions were trapped within the dark, just as she had been so long ago, as a child. Around her were the bodies of long dead dwarves, killed by the orcs that lurked somewhere in the vast darkness of Moria. It was too much and she would have fallen to her knees and wept in despair if a pair of strong arms did not steal around her waist, pulling her back against a familiar form. 

"_Amin si, A'maelamin (I am here, beloved)_. Be at peace, _melamin_," Legolas whispered in her ear. Trust her lover to know she was distressed, even when the world was tumbling down around them. His words and his strength gave her the ability to calm her trembling. Her heart still cringed, but she was able to tilt her head and kiss him tenderly while there was still darkness to cover the movement. The warmth of their gentle passion spread through her like a healing balm and she pulled away as Gandalf's staff suddenly lit up, casting a small bit of light on the dark stone walls of Moria. 

"Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places," the old wizard said sternly. Morithawen silently agreed with him. Indeed the darkness itself held more sway over her heart than a hundred orcs. 

Over the next three days, it was fairly quiet in the realm of Moria. Morithawen's ears were strained against the eerie silence, picking up faint noises occasionally. In any other situation, she would have dropped back to scout out what she thought to be some creature that was following them. In Moria, however, with its deep crevasses and dark corridors, she stayed close to the Fellowship. She had no wish to become lost or even lose sight of the hobbits in front of her. She did address her concerns with Aragorn however. 

"It is Gollum," the man stated quietly. She gave him a look of disbelief. 

"That wretched creature? How is it that he tracked us here? Did not the walls tumble in behind us?" she asked softly, careful not to speak where their conversation could be heard. Aragorn shrugged. 

"Either he is quicker than we give him credit or he was here already. Moria is the kind of place where he would be most comfortable. It is dark and damp. When we entered here, he would have sensed the presence of the Ring." 

"Do you think he will attack?" she asked thoughtfully. Aragorn shook his head. 

"Not while we guard the Ringbearer. He would not be so foolish as to risk his own death at our hand. He wants the Ring but he has learned a semblance of patience. We must never leave Frodo alone, _muinthel_, or he will be in great peril," the man said. Morithawen was glad of something to distract her from the closeness of the mines as they traveled. Between her concern for her hobbit friends and Legolas' constant presence either at her side or in her mind, she managed not to tremble. At least not when they were moving. At night, during her watch, however, was the worst time. The vast, echoing caverns ate the dim light of their torches. Her eyes were wide as she tried to concentrate on listening and watching for anything that might threaten the people she was protecting. 

"_A'maelamin, lle naa girien. Tula sinome. Lle tyava quel? (Beloved, you are trembling. Come here. Are you alright?)"_

Morithawen looked up when Legolas' voice spoke in her head. He was standing at her side, his hand hovering over her arm. She made no sound, merely fell into his arms and clung to him. He wrapped her up in his arms and whispered soft comfort right in her ear. Slowly, her trembles calmed and she relaxed against her betrothed. She breathed deeply of his scent, a faint mixture of the woods and the sun that allowed her to close her eyes and find a vision of her beloved trees. She shuddered when she opened her eyes again. She looked up at Legolas and he cupped her face in his hands, feeling the warm dampness of tears. 

"_Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea yrn au' (My heart shall weep until it sees trees again),_" she whispered softly. He leaned in and tenderly kissed her eyes. Her sigh was like a warm breeze on his neck, followed by her lips as she placed a gentle kiss on his jaw. 

"_Diola lle, melamin_," she said, meeting his eyes. As her distress lessened somewhat, the dark brown of her eyes melted to warm caramel, gleaming wetly in the dim light afforded them by the two torches and Gandalf's staff. He stroked his fingers over her face and smiled. 

"I did little, _melamin_, but if my presence is enough to soothe you, I would that I never had to leave your side. But it is my watch. Try to get some rest," he said. She nodded and leaned in for one sweet meeting of lips. She could never get enough of the taste and feel of him, but she left him and settled between two lightly snoring hobbits, calmed enough that she could indeed slip into her dreams. A smile adorned her face as she wandered the green meadows, surrounded by the blossoming trees. 

* * *

"Here lies Balin, son of Fudin, Lord of Moria. He is dead, then. I feared it was so," Gandalf said as they all looked on the tomb of Balin. Gimli was bowed down before the stone coffin, grieving after a dwarven fashion. The rest of the Fellowship looked a little lost as Gandalf began to look around him. Legolas and Morithawen both flanked Aragorn and exchanged worried looks behind his head before Legolas spoke in hushed tones. 

"We should move on. We cannot linger," he said. Aragorn gave him a distracted nod but continued to watch Gandalf. Morithawen clutched her bow tightly and fought back a tremor. She easily recognized the setting from her foretelling vision. There would be a battle here unless Legolas' words were heeded quickly. She did not think it was avoidable, however. Gimli was distraught and Gandalf wanted more information about the demise of the dwarves. 

Morithawen spared a sweeping glance for the chamber and that sweeping glance made her pause. 

"Gandalf. Is this the Chamber of Records?" she asked in hushed tones, leaving Aragorn's side to go study the runes on the walls. Gandalf did not hear her, or at least he paid her no heed, because he was leaning down to pick up a book. As he read from the record of Balin's occupation of Moria, her suspicions were confirmed. Any other time, she would have rejoiced at the chance to study closely the history of the Moria Dwarves. But there was no joy in her. Not when she knew they had no time. Her head jerked around at a loud clatter from the well at the back of the chamber. She looked over to see Pippin whip around with a guilty expression on his face as the skeleton that was perched atop the well slowly fell backwards into the deep yawning abyss. The entire fellowship tensed as the sound of the bones hitting the walls of the well on the way down echoed throughout the chamber. It wasn't until the sounds quieted and they had all strained for several silent moments to hear if the noise had roused anything in the depths of the mine that anyone moved. 

"Fool of a Took," Gandalf hissed when it seemed that they had escaped unnoticed. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" 

Morithawen couldn't help but think Gandalf was being a little harsh, but she knew the hobbit needed to realize how serious his carelessness could be. She stepped back towards Aragorn and Legolas, about to voice her concern about staying any longer in the tomb. She was hoping beyond hope that they could escape the battle to come. Her hope was dashed soon enough when a deep, rythymic rumble thudded through the stone around them. Soon, the sound of scurrying and scratching overlaid with screeches and screams could be heard echoing through the dusty air. Legolas, looking at Frodo at that moment, noticed an electric blue glow coming from the gap between the hilt and sheath of Sting, the young hobbit's sword. 

"Orcs!" 

Boromir ran to the doors leading back out into main halls of the Dwarf city. He looked out momentarily but when a pair of poorly aimed goblin arrows hit the door in front of his face, he quickly closed said doors. Aragorn was suddenly at his side to help. Legolas began tossing the two men various axes and spears that were scattered around the room. They did their best to fortify the door as Gandalf swept all the hobbits farther back into the chamber. Morithawen, Legolas and Aragorn exchanged glances as the doors began to shudder against an assault from the other side and they all noched arrows and stood poised to fire at whatever came through the door first. Boromir drew his sword and Gimli leapt up on Balin's coffin with a roar. 

"Let them come. There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath," he growled. And then the first cracks appeared in the doors and all thought was given to trying to protect the Fellowship from the horrors on the other side of those doors. Legolas was the first to fire an arrow into the growing cracks, causing a shriek of pain. Morithawen followed suit and then Aragorn. That was all that they were allowed before the doors shattered inward. Orcs in black, oily armor flooded into the room. The first ranks were quickly taken out by Legolas and Morithawen with arrows as Boromir and Aragorn waded into the fray with their swords drawn. From the hobbits rose a merry cry. 

"For the Shire!" 

Morithawen did her best to keep her wits about her. Her bow was soon useless as the orcs swarmed in close. So she began using her white knife and small knives as she and Legolas fought their way towards the back of the chamber where there were some high places. If they could reach those, they might be able to use their arrows again. Morithawen was able to break away, but once she sprinted up the stairs and posted herself above the action, she realized that Legolas hadn't been so lucky. He was surrounded by a half dozen orcs, his white knives flashing. She saw the concentration on his face and knew that it was taking all his concentration to keep himself from being skewered or slashed. Mori was suddenly in the middle of her foretelling vision come true. 

Mori smiled grimly and drew back her bow, noched with two arrows. She released them quickly, not even waiting to watch the two orcs fall away from Legolas before she had another arrow on her bow. That arrow, originally meant for another of the orcs hounding Legolas, was redirected when the cave troll burst through the entrance to the chamber. The arrow that landed in his shoulder didn't seem to phase him much. As he rampaged into the tomb, his large club swinging, orcs began to scatter. Seeing that arrows, except perhaps one directed into the large creature's small brain, had little effect on the troll, she concentrated her efforts on the orcs. Legolas leapt up on the ledge several meters away from her and faced two orcs with his knives. Two other orcs rushed at him from behind, just as the cave troll suddenly took an interest in the fair Mirkwood elf. Morithawen went to one knee and pulled the daggers from her boots, picking off the two orcs rushing at Legolas from behind. He quickly took care of the others and then faced the cave troll. The creature wielded his now broken chain like a whip. Mori knew Legolas was too clever and quick to be hit by the swinging chain and she looked around for more orcs to kill. 

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," said Sam. She took a moment to spare the hobbit her attention and watched as he took out orcs with his heavy iron pans. She couldn't help but smile at his ingenuity. He had never been fond of the short sword Aragorn had given him. But he wielded a mean frying pan. 

"Sam, to me," she said sharply, motioning him to her side. The hobbit didn't waste any time, coming to hover behind her as she flicked daggers at the orcs that tried approaching them. As it became obvious that the cave troll had escaped from the orcs holding his chains, the orcs in the chamber had thinned considerably, however. She knew there were more outside chamber, surely, but they were letting their pet troll rage, probably hoping that he would smash them all, thus saving them the effort. She grimaced a bit and glanced back down at Sam. 

"Where's Frodo?" she asked. Sam immediately looked panicked and Mori threw a quick glance around the chamber. Her sharp ears picked up the sound of the Ringbearer's cry for Aragorn. She leapt down from her perch and looked for her foster brother. He had his hands full with a few of the remaining orcs in the tomb. She cursed and ran towards the Ringbearer. She saw him struggling to get away from the troll, who had him by the foot. She cried out in distress and took three bounding steps, her white knife held high. She brought it down on the troll's arm just as Frodo lashed out with Sting. The troll screamed and stumbled a bit, releasing the hobbit. Morithawen misjudged how quickly the troll would recover from his annoyance over the pain and she turned her head for a moment to check on Frodo. She screamed when she was grasped around her slender waist with by a crushing hand and she was flung across the chamber. Her head connected with the stone and her mind swirled into darkness as her body slid down into the dust and rubble. 

* * *

Morithawen found herself jolted back to consciousness a few moments later. She was flopping around with a shoulder digging uncomfortably into her stomach, her head dangling against someone's back. Whoever that someone was, they were running at a very fast pace. Each stride caused an explosion of pain in her head and her torso. She gasped and brought her dangling arms up to wrap around the waist of her carrier. She was almost certain it was Aragorn. When one of her hands was encircled by a strong, calloused hand, she was certain. His harsh, breathless words barely reached even her sharp ears as he ran hard. 

"Mori, you are awake. Hold tight, _muinthel_." 

Morithawen was tempted to tell him to put her down. She was fairly certain she could run on her own. But the sounds that assailed her ears told of a massive army of orcs following them, surrounding them, coming from both behind, above and around. She was almost glad, then, that she could see nothing but the back of Aragorn's tunic. All too soon, her brother slowed and she found herself quickly lowered to the ground and shoved inside a circle of protectors along with the hobbits. She fought dizziness and stumbled a bit but managed to keep her feet. When she raised her eyes, she almost lost them again. 

The army of orcs surrounding the Fellowship was vast, spreading across the floor of Dwarrowdelf all about them. Their weapons rattled and their cries grated on Morithawen's already shattered nerves. She reached for her white knife, only to find that it was missing from its sheath. She growled unhappily and reached back, glad to find that her bow was still behind her quiver. Her quiver was empty, however. Any arrows she had would have fallen out on her upside down trip from the Chamber of Records. Ah well, she still had, if her calculations were correct, eight knives. She quickly located two and along with the sword wielding hobbits, shoved outward and formed a rough circle with the others. If they were going to die, they would all die fighting. 

A rumble and a deep, thudding roar echoed around the vast space. The screeching orcs all went silent for a split second. The roar echoed again and at the far end of the seemingly endless row of huge columns came an eerie fiery glow. The orcs, just moments ago hissing and screeching at them threateningly, began to screech again, but this time it was a frightened sound. As quickly as they had surrounded the Fellowship, they dispersed, disappearing down cracks in the floor and up the columns into the dark vaulted ceilings. Needless to say, the Fellowship was shocked, turning to face the approaching ripples of fiery light. 

"What is this new devilry?" asked Boromir in a hushed tone. Morithawen, standing just behind Gandalf, wondered the same thing. Beside her, Legolas lowered his bow, a look of caution on his face. Morithawen reached out to touch his arm. He flicked a single glance at her, some of the caution on his face replaced with relief to see her standing and alert, but his attention was then drawn back to the hall before them. 

"A Balrog. A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you. Run!" the Istari yelled. Morithawen uttered a cry of despair, dropping her knives. She knew what a Balrog was. Knew of its terrible power. The entire quest suddenly seemed doomed to failure. She seemed rooted to the spot until she felt her arm jerked, by Legolas or Boromir she wasn't sure, and she shook out of her despair. She turned and fled with the rest of her companions. 

* * *

She ran. As hard as she could run and as fast, she ran. Away from Moria and the pain it caused, she ran. Away from the memory of a dear friend lost into a cold, dark abyss, she ran. With a fire in her side and a blinding pain in her head, she ran. Helping a hobbit along in front of her and with the presence of another elf behind, she ran. To Lothlorien and the safety of within its borders, she ran. 

Morithawen ignored the pain and the grief that threatened to overwhelm her mind. In fleeing the mines of Moria, they had lost Gandalf in a battle with the Balrog. In taking out that terrible power, he had been dragged down into the depths of hell. And he had left Aragorn in charge of their safety. Once outside the mines, he had been quick to gather them for an escape to the woods of Lothlorien. A smart move, if not appreciated by all those in the company, that would save them from the orcs that would surely pursue them once darkness fell. Some wanted to stop and grieve, to rest and bandage wounds. Morithawen did not wish that. She wanted to run on forever, into the fading trees. To stop was to face her pain, both physical and mental. 

The trees loomed ahead of them almost suddenly, as Morithawen finally focused on something other than the exhausted hobbit in front of her. She felt a soft cushion of grass beneath her feet and they all slowed as they crossed the green and grassy glade that spread beneath the first tree of the Lorien forest. Morithawen had to fight back the urge to wrap herself around one of the small oaks and hug it. It seemed a silly notion, but as the last light of the sun faded in the west, she found herself among the forest again. Though it did not ease her pain or mute her grief, it did soothe her to an almost tranquil walk. So it was with the others as well. 

"We are safe, now?" asked Merry cautiously as he watched Aragorn and Legolas slow to a walk. Morithawen looked down at Merry and smiled wryly. 

"Depends on what the Guardians think of our presence here. Were it but myself or Legolas, yes, but…" she trailed off as a rustle in the trees caused her to turn her head. She narrowed her eyes but Merry didn't notice. 

"Who are the Guardians?" he wanted to know, just as Gimli, a few paces behind them, began rambling on about the Enchantress in the Woods. Morithawen wanted to roll her eyes, but she thought it would hurt too much. She wondered idly what she must look like with blood matted in her hair and one arm of her jerkin torn off. She probably looked good compared to some of the others, but she didn't think she wanted to see a mirror until she had a chance to soak in one of the Lothlorien hot springs. Just the memory of those springs made her eager to reach Caras Galadhon. But she knew it would be a task. Her knowledge was proven when they were suddenly surrounded by a dozen elves with Galadhrim bows, their arrows pointed at the necks of the Fellowship. She sighed softly when she saw that Legolas had drawn one of his few remaining arrows in an instinctive attempt to counter the threat. She often forgot that he was not as well traveled as she, even if he had seen two thousand years more than she. 

"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark," said a somewhat familiar voice. Morithawen turned her head, ignoring the silver point at her neck and was relieved to see Haldir. They had met before. 

"_Aaye (Hail)_, Haldir _o_ Lorien," she said, only to have the arrow dig into her throat. She ignored the sharp pain and the warm trickle of blood as Haldir turned his attention to her. To any but another elf, his expression didn't really change, but to Morithawen, she saw the amazement in his hazel eyes and the twitch of his eyebrows that said he was greatly surprised. 

"_Kiirar? Mankoi naa lle sinome? Mani marte a' lle? (Chronicler? What are you doing here? What happened to you?)_" he exclaimed. The arrow was suddenly removed from her throat as Haldir walked towards her in as hurried a manner as any elf could manage. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her deeper into the forest, motioning at the Guardians to follow. They did so, gesturing the rest of the Fellowship forward with their still drawn bows. 

By the time Morithawen had convinced Haldir that the rest of the Fellowship wasn't a threat, dark had already fallen and they were all gathered on a _flet (tree house/ platform)_. As one of the Guardian's offered her a bowl of water to wash some of the blood out of her hair and clean her head wound, Haldir spoke with Legolas and Aragorn. She heard Gimli growl something about elvish courtesy and then curse in Dwarvish. She closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. This wasn't going to go as smoothly as they had hoped.   
  
To be continued... 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

  
  
**There is quite a bit of Elvish in this story. It is a mixture of Sindarin and Grey Company. All of it should be italicized and the translations are in parenthesis just after the Elvish words. Phrases used frequently will only be translated once or twice.**  


Morithawen lay back on the couch and reveled in the sunlight filtering through the soft, sheer curtains of her room. The healer left silently, leaving her alone with her thoughts for the first time in many hours. They swiftly went back to the meeting with Celeborn and Galadriel. She didn't know if it had gone well or not. Galadriel had been blunt in her assessment of the situation and she was right. The Fellowship stood on the edge of a knife, and its fate rested in the ability of the members to remain true to one another. She sighed softly and reached up to touch the gauzy scarf that held the bandage to her head. Trust the Galadhrim to find a way to make even bandages look beautiful. 

"So, you've been ordered to rest." 

Morithawen looked up and saw her betrothed. He had removed his jerkin and weapons, standing before her in his silver undershirt and leggings. His feet were bare and he had taken the braids from his hair. It fell about his shoulders like moonlit golden silk. She held out her hand to him and he came, settling on floor and laying his head on the couch. Their faces were close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. 

"I do not wish for rest. With rest comes time for thought and reflection," she said softly, reaching out to bury one hand in his long hair, letting it slip through her fingers like a fall of gentle water. 

"But with rest also comes swift healing. You are grieving for Gandalf, so it will be hindered enough, _melamin_," he said quietly. They had both heard and lifted their voices to join the lament that had been sung throughout the wood for the Istari. This gentle reminder brought tears to her eyes and she sighed. 

"How will the Fellowship deal with this loss, Legolas? Frodo carries such a burden already and this loss has wounded his soul. When I look into his eyes, I see no hope," she said with a sigh. Legolas reached up to brush aside a tear with his thumb. 

"The Lady said as long as we hold true to one another, hope still remains. I believe that, Morithawen, with all my heart. Frodo is strong, _melamin_. He will find his courage. Hobbits are resilient creatures. I must admit that did come as a surprise," Legolas said with a sad smile. Morithawen nodded. Of all the creatures of Middle Earth, the hobbits were the ones that she had spent no time with before this quest. She saw now that it had been an oversight on her part. As a Chronicler, she should be just as interested in the Shire as in Rohan or Gondor. 

"I think once this conflict is over, I shall visit the Shire. If the tales that Merry and Pippin tell are even half true, it must be a beautiful place," she said finally. Legolas leaned in and kissed her lips tenderly. 

"And peaceful," he said. She tightened her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer for another kiss, a deeper kiss. It wasn't until he slipped onto the couch beside her and skimmed one hand up her side that her body reminded her that it wasn't in top shape. Her gasp was minute, but Legolas felt it against his mouth. His hand immediately dropped to the bed and he pulled away with a wry smile. 

"I'm sorry, _A'maelamin_. I should not," he said with a weary sigh. She shifted a little bit and fit her body against his carefully, drapping one arm over his waist. 

"Oh, I think you should. In fact, I know you should. Just… _Tira ten' rashwe (be careful)_," she whispered softly in his ear. Then she proceeded to lick the sensitive, leaf shaped ear in front of her mouth, paying special attention to the delicate point. Legolas' gasp of surprise was laced heavily with pleasure and she felt a strong hand slide up her spine. Oh yes, this was definitely something they should do. Time was precious and they need a memory to carry them until their next meeting, something without the taste of grief or anger or pain mingled in it. 

* * *

"Why aren't you going with them, _Kiirar_? You are as much a part of the Fellowship as Legolas. You traveled with them, fought with them, grieved with them." 

Morithawen was standing on the bank of the Anduin, watching the three elven boats carry away her beloved, her brother and her friends. She heard Haldir's question but she didn't have the heart to answer him just yet. Her heart was still trembling with grief after the goodbye she had shared with Legolas this morning before the Fellowship had gathered to be gifted by the hands of Galadriel and her people. His borderline desperate kisses had seared her soul, telling her without words that he hated leaving her. He thought she would be safe here but her heart did not understand. For her, the only real safety was in his arms. As his boat retreated, she felt a chill creep into her body that had nothing to do with the late autumn morning breeze. She wrapped her mother's cloak around her body and turned away, walking swiftly back towards the comfort of Caras Galadhon, leaving Haldir to watch after her with concern in his eyes. 

* * *

Morithawen's days slipped past slowly under the lights of Lothlorien. Time had always moved strangely there and she spent most of her time wandering the beautiful woods, trying to keep her thoughts on things other than the fate of the Fellowship. She had delivered the records she had brought with her to Celeborn and had carefully penned the events that had occurred on the journey from Rivendell. After that, she was at a loss. The Lothlorien records were in perfect order and she had read them all. With whispers of orcs roaming the borders of Lorien, Celeborn was loathe to send her back to Rivendell, so she had little to do but await word from beyond the borders of the land protected by the power of the elves. 

"Morithawen? You are well!" 

Morithawen's head came up from the flower chain she was making for her hair and she would have gaped if it had been proper for an elf to gape. 

"Arwen! _Mankoi naa lle sinome(Why are you here)?_" 

"Is that any way to greet your foster sister?" Arwen asked with a wry smile. Morithawen blinked and then rose gracefully, going to embrace the other female. 

"Pardon, Arwen. I am merely surprised. The land is not safe for traveling. I hope you did not come alone," Morithawen said quietly, looking at Arwen questioningly. The other elf was silent for the longest time. 

"Galadriel has called a counsel to discuss the fate of the Fellowship. I mean to be there," the dark headed elf said. Morithawen was a little startled. 

"A counsel? You came with father, then?" she asked. Arwen sighed softly. 

"Father does not know I am here, Mori. He thinks I am half way to the Gray Havens by now," she said. Morithawen was startled again. 

"The Havens? I thought you had pledged your immortality to Estel. Have you so suddenly changed your mind?" she asked in a disapproving tone. Of all the Elves of Rivendell, those few that knew about Arwen and Aragorn's romance, only Morithawen accepted their betrothal without misgivings. She had known of their love before they had even met, through a foreseeing, and knew better than to question it. She knew Estel had loved Arwen since the moment they had met and his life had been spent trying to prove himself worthy of her. No woman, human or elf, could know the true Estel and NOT fall in love with him. Of course, being the closest thing to a proud big sister that Aragorn had made her a little biased in that respect. 

"Never, Morithawen. My life belongs to Aragorn. My love for him is my only hope. My father cannot understand that. Or perhaps he will not. But he will come to accept my decision. I hope," the Evenstar said quietly, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. Morithawen drew her sister into another embrace and drew her to a cushioned bench, nestled among the roots of a tree. 

"He is your father, Arwen. The thought that you will not be by his side in Valinor is not a welcome one. But he will come to accept it and I promise that he will smile at your wedding," she said, laying a hand on Arwen's thigh. At her words, Arwen seemed to relax and she sighed. They were both quiet for a moment, until Arwen spoke up again. 

"Why didn't you go with the Fellowship when they left. If you did not intend to go farther than Lorien, what reason was there to accompany them? Traveling alone would have been less perilous," she stated, obviously confused by Morithawen's decision to follow the Fellowship from Rivendell with all the trouble the Ring could and did attract. Only Elrond knew of her vision. Morithawen thought, now that it was fulfilled, there was little harm in mentioning it. 

"Because Legolas would have died in Moria if I hadn't been there," she said seriously. Arwen looked at her with wide eyes. Morithawen read the unspoken question in her eyes and nodded, "Foretelling. Which is why father didn't try talking me out of it." 

"Did Legolas know?" 

"No, and it is probably best that he does not. It is done and he survived. Now I must await word as to whether it was all in vain. The Fellowship will face worse than a small army of orcs and a cave troll, I am certain. Not to mention the corruption of the Ring. The weight of it wears on Frodo and I have seen its reflection in eyes of Boromir. I pray that the Man can hold true to his oath until the Ring is destroyed. If not, I fear all will be lost. If only Gandalf were not lost," Morithawen said, her tone laced with desperation. Arwen leaned closer to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

"Think on other things for now, Mori. Dwelling on the fate of Fellowship will only lead to grief and you have seen too much and we will all suffer more before the Dark Lord is destroyed. Come, let us talk about your betrothal. I will admit that it came as a surprise to me. I did not know you felt so deeply for the Prince of Mirkwood," the older elf said, trying to draw the usually bright tempered elf out of her current dark mood. The turn of conversation worked. Morithawen's face lit up with all the love she held in her heart for Legolas and the sisters spoke of nothing but their lovers for a long while, sticking to the happier memories. 

"Arwen." 

The two elves looked up to see Galadriel standing before them, her face and her tone impossible to read. Arwen rose after giving Morithawen a wry smile. Galadriel motioned for her to go and Arwen moved away at some unspoken direction by her grandmother. Galadriel watched her go for a moment before turning her gaze on Morithawen. 

"It does my heart good to see a brightness in your eyes again, Morithawen. You have been unsure of yourself since the Fellowship left. How are your head and your side?" she asked softly. Morithawen sighed softly and then shifted almost unconsciously, testing the discomfort in her ribs. 

"A little sore, but better, Lady," she said quietly. Galadriel nodded and stepped forward, leaning down to take Morithawen's chin gently in her hand. Morithawen's brown eyes met endless, light-filled blue and the Lady seemed to consider her for a long time before smiling. 

"Do not despair, young _Amrun'quessir_. You will be with your beloved again, and sooner than you think. Now, we are having a counsel to discuss the fate of the Fellowship and of the Ring. Many things have come to pass since the boats left Lothlorien and there are decisions to be made. We would like your presence both as Chronicler and as one that knows the Fellowship as a whole better than any of us," the Lady of Light stated. Morithawen nodded and rose from her seat. 

"Lead the way, Lady Galadriel." 

* * *

Morithawen marched into Helm's Deep amidst a small guard escort in the middle of the marching lines. This was one time she wished the Galadhrim weren't so traditional. The _Kiirar_ was always protected by an elite guard of four to eight warriors, depending on the size of the army. Her job was one of the most important, if not the most important, one in the course of war. Recorded history was precious to an Elf. In the study of history, mistakes could be recognized and avoided. When the column stopped, she moved out of the ranks of similarly clad elves and made her way to the front of the column, her guard breaking away to follow her. 

"We are proud to fight along side men once more," Haldir was saying to the king. She stopped next to Legolas and nodded to the Ring of Rohan respectfully. It was Aragorn that reacted to her presence first, however. 

"Morithawen! _Muinthel_, what are you doing here? Wasn't Lothlorien exciting enough for you?" he asked in a light tone, stepping up and clutching her in a tight embrace. She laughed lightly. 

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire, my brother. My life will never be too exciting," she said, using the embrace as an excuse to turn her head away from Aragorn's neck to catch Legolas' eye. His expression didn't change but his eyes conveyed a great deal of confusion, joy and fear. She only had time to flash him a brief smile before she was released. 

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire, Mori? Too much time in the company of hobbits for you, I think," Aragorn said with a chuckle. Then he turned her towards Theodan and introduced her to the king. 

"King Theodan, this is Morithawen, Chronicler for the Elves and the last of the Sunrise Elves on Middle Earth," he said happily. Theodan bowed his head and then looked over her gold and silver mithril coat, her autumn shifting cloak, her large leather shoulder bag and her elaborately braided, uncovered head. The king had been secretly impressed by Haldir's armor, but this she-elf was absolutely breathtaking in both beauty and apparel. She was a treasure to be guarded, as was obvious by the four stern looking elves hovering behind her protectively. 

"Pleasure meeting you, Morithawen. Now, I'll have two of my men escort you down to the safety of the caves. I'm sure you'll be more comfortable down there. My niece, Eowyn, can give you any details you need for your report," he said finally, motioning for two of his junior officers to come forward. Morithawen simply smiled at the King and raised one eyebrow as she glanced at Aragorn. She saw the discomfort in her foster brother's eyes as he waved the junior officers away and nodded at Theodan. 

"No need, my lord. I will see that she is taken care of properly," he said. Theodan seemed torn for a moment and then he nodded, the whole matter forgotten as he, Haldir and Aragorn quickly began replanning the defense of the Keep, which now included the Elven Army. Morithawen simply walked back to her place in the marching lines. She wasn't expecting Legolas to follow her. He had plenty of opportunity to speak to her both out loud and in her mind and he hadn't as yet. She was a little worried by his silence. When he took his place amongst her elite guard, however, she looked at him expectantly. 

"You have no intentions of hiding away in the caves, do you?" he asked softly. Her guard was polite enough to pretend not to be listening in on the conversation. She shook her head. 

"My place is with my people, Legolas. Not only do I have an obligation to record the battle events, I am a warrior. I will not sit idly by when I can fight. What Theodan doesn't know, won't hurt him," she said just as softly. Legolas' expression became distressed. She was a little surprised by the transformation. He rarely ever showed emotion of any kind. Not on his face anyway. She had learned long ago how to read his eyes. 

"This is madness," he said sharply. She saw his eyes darken to midnight blue and she reached out, putting one hand to his chest, over his heart. 

"The world is changing. Madness is all around us, _melamin_. But I am not afraid to face the Darkness, because I know that Light must prevail. Do not fear for me. I have these fine young warriors to defend me in the thick of battle. Go, _Aratoamin (my champion)_. I will see you at battle's end," she said. Around her, the guard seemed to stand even taller if possible. Legolas spared them a glance before covering her hand with his own and leaning in to whisper in her ear. 

"Be safe, _A'maelamin_. May the Grace of the Valar protect you." 

"Ever will I be safe, Legolas, if only in the loving embrace of your memory." 

With those words they parted and the battle for Helm's Deep began. 

The elves were moved to the outer wall and the barren expanse of earth behind it. Morithawen was placed with those on the ground, behind the safety of the wall. For now. She stood in with the other archers, her bow held loosely in her hand as the sound of the Uruk-hai army came to her from over the wall. She could hear Aragorn telling the Elves on the wall what to expect from Saruman's army. No mercy. His was the only voice she could hear. The rest of the army of Men and Elves as almost eeriely silent, as if waiting for a cue from the Uruk-hai. About that time, a cold rain began to fall. Mori nearly smiled at the irony of it. 

It was actually the Rohan that signaled the beginning of the battle when a lone bowman released an arrow into the front ranks of the Uruk-hai, drawing first blood. The roar of the Uruk-hai commander was heard easily by all those within Helm's Deep, just before the Uruk's rushed the walls. The Elven archers took the first defense, firing from both the top of the wall and over it from the ground below. Morithawen could not tell if the arrows were successful in hitting their targets. She was unfortunate enough to watch as several Uruk crossbow bolts hit her kinsmen atop the wall, however. Their cries pierced her heart, but she didn't allow herself time to dwell on it. The Uruks soon got close enough to raise their ladders and black armor began to mix with bright Elven armor atop the wall. Time was spent trying to pick off Uruks from amongst the crowd atop the wall without hitting their own people in the process. 

The only real warning that something odd was happening was Aragorn's screams at Legolas to bring someone down. When the wall in front of her company exploded, there was no time to be shocked or horrified. She found herself shoved back and under two of her elite guard as stone and bodies rained down from above. She felt the jolts of heavy blocks of stone hitting the ground. 

When the rain of debris finally stopped, Mori shoved her nearest guard away and stood, looking over the damage. Her eyes closed against the carnage for a moment as she steeled herself against a scream of anger and pain. Among the dead were two of her guard and the bright armor of several elves shone with blood. Her thoughts reached out to her betrothed and she was relieved when his mind brushed hers with a mutually concerned query. That in itself made things bearable. When she opened her eyes again, however, she tried not to focus on anything but the huge rift in the wall, through which Uruks were pouring. 

Morithawen couldn't help but see Aragorn, however. He was laying directly in front of the rift. For a moment, she thought that the explosion or the fall to the ground had killed him, too, but she was relieved to see movement from him. He shook his head as if to clear it and then struggled to his feet. Mori rushed forward with the rest of her kin on the ground, bows held ready as they watched a small figure leap from the wall into the crowd of Uruks with a fierce cry. Gimli. 

Gimli fought well and managed to slow the first of the Uruks, but it was short lived. He was eventually forced under the pool of murky water that had gathered in the small crater created by the explosion. Aragorn took the opening to order a volley of arrows and then a charge by the Elves. Morithawen joined them, flanked by her two remaining guards. She was soon wielding her white knife in her own defense and the defense of those around her. 

After what seemed like forever, Morithawen heard Theodan shout at Aragorn to pull his troops back to the Keep. As reluctant as many of the Elves were to leave the fighting, it was best to fall back and fortify the smaller area of the Keep. It would be easier to defend. She found herself quickly escorted back up the stairwell leading to the Keep. The sound of creaking wood and yelling humans greeted her ears as she ran through the main yard. The gates were shuddering and breaking under an onslaught from the Uruks' battering ram. They weren't going to last much longer. 

With the gates breaking, Morithawen was ushered up another flight of stairs to the top of the higher wall that surrounded the Keep itself. From there, she could see the roiling mass of black that was Saruman's army. They stretched out over the sand flats in front of Helm's Deep like a great, smothering blanket. She suppressed a shudder when she noticed one of the younger human boys watching her with awe in his eyes. She smiled slightly at him and fought back anger. The child had no business on top of this wall. She positioned herself at the wall a few feet away from him, a grim expression on her face as she watched a few particular pockets of activity. 

The first of the grappling hooks fired at the wall caught and Morithawen watched as a ladder covered with clinging Uruks was pulled up towards the wall. She pulled her bow from her back and noched an arrow, firing it with deadly aim. She was in the middle of aiming again when a bow sang at her side. She didn't have to look to know it was Legolas and she wasn't surprised when the rope holding the ladder being pulled up to her right suddenly snapped back, severed by the arrow he had fired. Those Uruks and the unfortunate ones on the ground beneath the ladder would no longer be a threat. 

"Where is Aragorn?" she asked him between arrows. 

"Look down," was all he said. She paused briefly and looked down over the Keep wall. There were Aragorn and Gimli, fighting the Uruk-hai that were attacking the broken doors of the Keep, giving the Men time to shore up the doors. She frowned. 

"How will they get out of there?" she asked. 

"See if there's a rope. We'll have to pull them out. They can't go back the way they came," Legolas said softly. For any other ears but an elf's, it would have been lost in the battle noise, but she heard him easily. She quickly fired her last arrow and turned towards the boy at her side.

"Can you find us a rope? A long one, very strong," she asked him once she had attracted his attention. She spoke as close to his ear as possible. His eyes went wide when he realized that she was addressing him. 

"M…m…m'lady?" he stuttered, the sword in his hand drooping to the ground. She thought he might have been holding it up since the beginning of the seige. She sighed softly and gave him a smile. 

"A thick, strong rope?" she prompted. She was relieved to see him stand up a little straighter and nod. He awkwardly sheathed his sword and scampered off. She turned then, to face the Uruks that were now flooding over the wall, her white knife drawn. As she fought back to back with Legolas, the flood of black clad creatures began to shy away from their little corner of the wall. By the time the boy arrived lugging a rope, the fighting had shifted enough to give them a break in their fighting. Legolas took the rope and stepped up on the high wall, shouting down to catch Aragorn's attention. He tossed down the rope and soon began pulling up the Man and the Dwarf, pulling them away from danger. Morithawen fended off the handful of Uruks brave enough to move towards them. The boy at her side managed to wield his sword well enough to stay alive. Once the Man and the Dwarf were over the wall, however, a retreat was immediately ordered. The gates weren't going to last long. They had just enough time to barricade themselves inside the Keep and make a few decisions about this battle. Morithawen tried not to think how bleak things were starting to look for the army of Men and Elves. 

* * *

Morithawen sat outside the main gates of the Keep, watching as the King of Rohan, two of his men, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn rode off together. She wasn't sure exactly what they were going to look at, but she hadn't been invited along, so here she sat, looking out over the carnage. The few elves that had survived the battle were walking among the dead, gleening arrows. She stood suddenly, turning to walk back into the Keep. She stopped one of the men that she knew to be one of Theodan's captains. 

"Excuse me, sir, but have you seen the elf, Haldir? I need to talk with him about my chronicles," she said softly, putting one hand on his arm. The man blinked at her and then stood a little straighter. His expression didn't change from the grim one he wore, though. 

"I'm afraid that Captain Haldir is dead, my lady. His body lies with those of the elves in the courtyard. I am sorry," he said. Morithawen stepped back from the man with a frown. That couldn't be right. Dead? Haldir? The very concept made her head hurt and she was only able to nod before leaving the man to watch after her. She suddenly felt the walls of the Keep closing in around her and she needed to get out. She grabbed her satchel and approached the boys that were watching several horses. One of them was the young boy that she had met on top of the wall. 

"My lady," he said, bowing to her when she approached, eyes a little less wide that those of the other boys around him. She gave him a distracted smile. 

"Do you know if there is a horse that I could borrow, young man? I need to ride out for a while," she said. He nodded and patted the black mare at his side. 

"This is Kellan. Her rider fell in battle, my lady. She would be glad to carry someone as beautiful as you," he said carefully. She nodded, trying to make her smile seem more grateful. 

"Thank you…what is your name, boy?" she asked suddenly. 

"Kirnas," he said brightly. She nodded again. 

"Thank you, Kirnas. I will bring her back in a while. If anyone asks after me, I am writing a record of the battle and do not wish to be disturbed," she said. The boy nodded and she turned to the horse. She considered it for a moment before reaching down to undo the cinch. With the boy's help she removed the saddle and then leapt onto the horse's back with no trouble. The boys all whispered amongst themselves as she rode the horse down the stone ramp. She gave the horse her head and let her roam for a while. When she finally leaned down and whispered to the horse, she found herself in a grassy area across the valley from Helm's Deep. She dismounted and let the mare graze while she found a relatively flat rock and sat down, gazing out over the flat sandy expanse that stretched out for miles in front of and far beyond the canyon that was Helm's Deep. Luckily she was far enough away that even her Elven eyes couldn't see any of the carnage from the battle. 

For a long time she sat, her eyes unfocused and seeing only fond memories as she lifted her voice on the wind and sang a lament for Haldir and those other elves that had perished the night before. Her lament included those Men killed as well. When she finally fell silent, her heart was still and she was able to pull out her book and begin working. 

"Legolas is beside himself with worry, _muinthel_. He says your thoughts are closed him." 

Morithawen looked up, for the first time in many decades startled. She had not heard Aragorn's approach. She looked at the sky and saw that it was getting dark. She had been away from the Keep for many hours. 

"I did not intend to be gone so long. I needed some time," she said truthfully. Aragorn was quiet for a moment before sitting on the rock beside her. She sighed and leaned into him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she couldn't resist burying her face in his neck. 

"You've bathed. The stench of death is not so close to you as it was earlier," she murmured. She felt his nod. 

"I learned some good habits from you, Mori. Now, come back to the keep. I fear that after dark there will be Uruks roaming the area looking for easy targets. And please let Legolas know that we are returning. He and Gimli are looking in the other direction," he said. Morithawen nodded and whistled softly as she rose. The mare she had ridden came trotting up and she swung onto her back as Aragorn mounted Brego. As they rode back toward Helm's Deep, she reached out with her mind to find her betrothed. 

"_Legolas, I am sorry. You know how I get when I am working." _

"There is more than just work weighing heavy on your mind, melethril (lover)._ It is your grief that holds your thoughts from me. I heard your song, Morithawen. It was echoed down the valley and in my heart." _

"May their lives be remembered always in honor of their deaths." 

"They will be, I'm certain. Now, hurry. I've missed you in this dark, unforgiving place. I need to feel your warmth beside me again." 

"I would come on wings if I could, melamin_. But do not fear. You have the dwarf for your company,_" she said with light laughter in her thoughts. 

"_Believe me when I say that Gimli can in no way replace my need or want for you,_ melamin. _He can only help me delay it for a short while._" 

By this time, Brego and Kellan had reached the gates of the Keep and she dismounted swiftly into the arms of Legolas. He did not subscribe to typical elvish reserve, kissing her soundly in front of several women, children, men and horses. Then he whisked her away to a quiet corner. There really wasn't a place for them to be truly alone here. 

"How much I wish for a cool stream for bathing and a soft bed for lying you down upon, _melethril melui (sweet lover)_. My dreams will be of you and I in Lothlorien tonight," he said in her ear. She shivered in delight as he nuzzled the sensitive tip of her ear. 

"I think I shall visit your dreams, _A'maelamin_, because that is exactly where I wish to be. But when the dreams are done, where will we go? What happens now?" she asked, turning the conversation to more serious matters. She wanted to know how much time she had to relax with him before the journey began again. He sighed softly. 

"Some ride to Isengard. Others are still undecided, including Aragorn. I will stay with Aragorn until he makes his decision." 

"Then that is my place as well. I will not let you leave me again. I would rather die beside you than live another minute wondering where you are and when I will see you again," she said softly. 

"I will not complain having you at my side, Morithawen. Do not fear. I will not let you die, beside me or otherwise. We have a wedding to attend once this mess with the Dark Lord is over and I fully intend to be there, in full ceremonial dress, with my father and yours to officiate," he said quietly, looking into her eyes with a smile. She leaned forward until her forehead touched his. 

"Is that a promise, _melamin_?" 

"It is a heart vow, _melamin_. Believe in me." 

"With everything I am, Legolas. Always and forever, until even Valinor is no more."   
  
The End...for now. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Mori pulled on a brown Rohirrim tunic over her mithril coat, replacing her black vambraces over the long sleeves and fastening her cloak around her throat. She didn't feel comfortable traveling the Paths of the Dead in full shiny regala. There was no need for her to outshine the torches they would need to carry. She turned back towards Legolas and smiled, leaning down to touch his face. It was time to inform him that their short respite from journey was being cut even shorter. The elf prince's gaze, before that moment distant with restful dreams, focused on her. The clear, sky blue of his eyes told her that he was content and at peace for the first time in many weeks. She hated to disturb that beautiful peace, but duty demanded it. 

"Time to prepare for a journey, my beloved warrior. Elrond is here, with Estel, and he brings a sword and a quest," she said quietly. The peace in his eyes was indeed disturbed by her words and she sighed. But Aragorn could not walk his next quest alone, even if he thought he should. Elrond had felt her presence and he had spoken to her. 

"Narsil?" Legolas asked, leaping gracefully to his feet. She smiled wryly and shook her head. 

"Anduril. The Flame of the West. Reforged from the shards of Narsil and ready to serve a new, stronger master," she stated softly. Legolas' nodded after a thoughtful moment, then questioned her further. 

"What is this quest that requires we leave the Rohirrim on the eve of battle? What is so important that it precedes the ride to Gondor's aide?" 

"An oath long unfulfilled. We walk the Dimvault road," she said softly, eyes glinting darkly. Legolas' eyes widened very slightly and he gripped her upper arms gently, looking into her eyes. 

"Mori..." 

"Don't even think of asking, Legolas _A'maela-nin_. Estel already believes he will walk the Paths alone. He must not. And I will not leave your side. I do not fear the dead," she said firmly. Legolas sighed softly and then nodded. He placed a kiss on her forehead, then her nose and then tenderly touched his lips to hers in a way the made her blood warm and her toes curl in delight. She slid both arms around his slender waist to pull him closer, but he reached back and took her hands, gently pulling them forward and up between them.

"If only we had time, _mela-nin_. You will drive me mad," he said quietly, leaning in and pressing his forehead against her own. She smiled into his eyes and squeezed his fingers.

"Well, then, let us not waste any more of that precious time. The quicker this quest is done, the quicker I will have time to drive you completely insane," she said quietly, eyes sparkling. Legolas leaned in to steal another kiss and then he stepped back and stretched his long body languidly to work out what little stiffness might remain in his lithe muscles. As she watched him stretch and then turn to pick up his quiver, Mori marveled once again that she had captured the heart of this beautiful warrior. He had known her since she was an elfling plagued by memories of her parents' death and her imprisonment under stone. How he could love her even so was a mystery, but it wasn't one she felt the need to explore just yet. She planned on having at the very least a few millenia to try and figure it out.

She moved to help him buckle on his quiver, running her hands lovingly over the well worn suede that fitted so well against his lithe, muscular frame. He laughed softly and caught her hands again. She gave him a mischevious smile and then tugged on his hand, leading him out of the tent. They needed to get the horses ready. Gimli was waiting outside their tent.

"I'll make certain he doesn't sneak away, Lady Mori," he said merrily around his pipe. The two elves smiled and moved towards the picket lines. They passed several Rohirrim on their way. Rohan was gathering an army to ride to the aid of Gondor and they had chosen Dunharrow as their gathering place. Gondor was under seige by Mordor and needed reinforcements terribly. Pippin had recovered the Palantir that Saruman had used for so long and Aragorn had used it to reveal his presence to Sauron. The stakes were high now that the Dark Lord knew without a doubt that his mortal enemy, the heir of Elendil and Isildur, was ready to face him with The Sword that was Broken reforged. Sauron was unwilling to give Men time to regroup, so he was going to hit Gondor hard and fast and now. As frightening as that thought was, with Sauron's Eye fixed on Aragorn, Frodo and Sam would have more of a chance getting into Mordor unnoticed to destroy the One Ring. She prayed that Illuvitar would keep those two safe. The fate of Middle Earth rested in their hands. The rest of them merely served as distraction, even if that distraction was purposed to save as many Men as possible from complete destruction by Sauron's forces.

The pair of elves tacked their horses and moved back towards Gimli's post outside their tent. Morithawen paused, however, when a voice spoke softly in her head.

_'Morithawen, I would speak with you.'_

She sent Legolas ahead with the horses and a quiet promise to follow soon and turned around. Elrond stood in the shadows of a stout tree, shrouded in a black hooded robe. She moved forward cautiously and was relieved when he reached out and drew her close. She sighed softly and leaned into him for a moment, breathing deeply of his scent. He smelled so much of Imladris, of home, that she wondered if she had not simply dreamt the past several weeks. His words, however, laid those thoughts to rest.

"Estel is not the only one going on a quest, Morithawen. It is time for you to face your deepest fears and your secret desires. Always remember those that love you, my daughter. We need you more than you know," he said quietly. She turned her head and looked up at him, eyes troubled. He shook his head, telling her silently not to question him. She sighed again and pulled away from him. He took her hand and led her back towards the horse lines, stopping by his stallion and loosing a pair of light saddlebags from the saddle. He held them out to her and smiled.

"For Estel. Arwen thought he might need a little motivation. Save it until after the Paths of the Dead. It will help him motivate a reluctant army," he said quietly. Morithawen took the saddlebags and tiptoed to kiss her foster father's cheek.

"He will be glad of it, I'm sure. And to know that Arwen is thinking of him will be motivation enough to see him through the battles ahead. Do not worry Father. Illuvitar's song will never be drowned out by the darkness. That is the important thing to remember when all seems lost. Good must win out over evil, even if evil unwittingly thru greed brings good the victory," she said with a sad smile, a faraway look in her eyes. Elrond looked at her suspiciously.

"That was a foretelling," he said. She blinked and looked thoughtful for a long moment before replying.

"Perhaps, but also truth. Evil is a corruption that eats away at everything, even itself," she said with a grim smile. Elrond chuckled softly.

"You are right, as usual Morithawen," he said. Her smile turned warmer, this time with mirth.

"Do be sure to tell Elrohir and Elladan. They insist that I'm just a little know-it-all," she said. Elrond graced here with a wink and another smile.

"I'll be sure to do that, Mori. Now go. Time is short."

* * *

Morithawen hurried to catch up with Legolas, cutting between two tents in what she hoped was a short cut. She was surprised when she came upon Eowyn, niece of King Theodan of Rohan, seated upon a shadowed rocked. The woman had been crying, obvious from the glint of moonlight off the tearstreaks on her cheeks. Morithawen considered approaching the woman but time was not with her. She was very surprised, however, when the woman addressed her on the way past.

"You are going with him, then," she asked in a somber tone. Morithawen paused and tilted her head in affirmative. She was surprised when the woman's hands clenched into fists and she jumped up, stalking off in the opposite direction. Morithawen turned and watched after the woman with a troubled expression, but she could not linger. Hurrying on, she intercepted Legolas as he pulled up alongside Aragorn.

"Have you learned nothing of the stubborness of dwarves?" he was asking. Morithawen flipped the saddlebags onto Kellan's rump as Gimli convinced Aragorn that he was not allowed to walk the Paths of the Dead alone. Aragorn didn't even address Morithawen, but the look he gave her said he was very unhappy with her. She sighed softly, ignoring the warning glares her foster brother kept shooting her, and mounted Kellan gracefully. There was no more talk as the four of them rode out of camp, followed by the murmurs of confused Rohirrim soldiers. It wasn't until the sun came up high enough to light the path ahead of them a pale gold that she dared pull Kellan up beside Brego and speak with Aragorn. Luckily, he seemed to have come to terms with her presence and spoke freely with her.

"I saw Eowyn before we left. She seemed to know where we are going and she was not happy about it. Is there a story there I should be aware of?" she asked quietly. Aragorn was quiet for a moment and then answered in a sad voice.

"She believes she loves me, Morithawen. I cannot believe that. She cannot love me for who I am, for she knows very little of me. She sees in me the chance for glory and honor, not a flesh and blood man with doubts and weaknesses," he said with a sigh. It was obvious that he regretted sending Eowyn away angry.

"She believes that she can find glory and honor through others, then? She must learn to trust in her own inner strengths but she cannot do that in the shadow of someone else. Her path lies along a different road from yours, but you will meet again soon enough," she said with a grim smile. Aragorn looked at her in surprise and she merely nodded an answer to his unspoken question. She had foreseen it. She really needed to stop opening her mouth before she said something horrible that she couldn't take back. She just hoped Aragorn wouldn't ask anymore questions about his next meeting with Eowyn. It wasn't going to be a cheerful one. That thought made her fall back beside Legolas, listening to him as he told Gimli the story of the Dead Army. It was a grim tale of betrayal and cowardice that gave Morithawen a queasy feeling that she thought must be quite like a human's sick stomach if Estel's descriptions were anything to go by.

As they rode along, the path before them seemed to wind into shadow, despite the angle of the sun on the mountain side, and Morithawen felt her mount trembling beneath her thighs. She leaned down to whisper comfort in her ear. She was quite aware of what lay along the dark path before them and though it did not frighten her, she was certain that the horses wouldn't be so brave. She dismounted gracefully and moved to the horse's head, murmuring soothing words in elvish. It had a calming effect on Kellan and the trembling stopped, even if the horse pawed the rocky ground nervously. She looked up to see that the others had dismounted as well and that Legolas was soothing Arod. Brego, Aragorn's mount, seemed the least affected by the atmosphere of the place, standing still with Aragorn's hand on his neck. Her brother spoke a gentle word to the horse and then took the reins, leading him farther down the path. The rest of them followed, with Gimli pulling up the rear.

As they approached the dark opening in the craggy rockface, Morithawen felt chilled to her soul. She had heard many ghost stories amongst the Rohirrim about this place, but she knew the history behind the scary tales. Somehow, knowing the history didn't make the place seem any less intimidating. She shook her head a bit and stepped up next to Aragorn. She had to tug on Kellan's bridle firmly but the horse moved forward reluctantly. She turned to watch her foster brother then, noting the stern expression on his face as he faced the doorway. She laid a hand on his arm and he turned to look at her. She searched his eyes and was relieved to see only determination there.

"If you ever had doubts of your heritage, Aragorn, now would be the time to lay them to rest," said a gruff voiced Gimli from behind them. Morithawen and Aragorn turned as one and gave Gimli identical expressions of exasperation, complete with single eyebrows raised. Gimli blinked and Legolas grinned before patting his small friend's shoulder with the hand not holding Arod's reins and an unlit torch.

"Not to worry, Master Dwarf. Any man that can perfect a look so like Lord Elrond has to have Elven blood in his veins somewhere," the blond elf said in amusement. The scowl was turned on the Mirkwood elf then and he just laughed and walked Arod forward, lighting his torch on Aragorn's.

"Come now, children. We have ghosts to entertain," he said, making a flourish towards the dark opening. Morithawen and Aragorn exchanged a slightly disgrunted look and rolled their eyes before turning back towards the opening. They both grinned, however, once their backs were to Legolas. The shadow of the Dwimmorberg wasn't so dark on their hearts after Legolas' teasing. The lighter hearts didn't last long however, for the sun disappeared completely as they entered the Paths of the Dead and the light of Aragorn's torch didn't seem to light more than a small area around them. Mori shuddered, quite unhappy to be under rock and stone again so soon after Moria. Aragorn noticed and drew closer to her, talking quietly.

"Is it just me or are Legolas and Gimli actually getting along?" he asked in a whisper only an elf could hear. She smiled a bit and nodded.

"If you can call their constant bickering getting along. But it has changed a great deal from their malicious taunting. I think they've learned to respect one another, which is the first step towards true friendship. I'm quite relieved to see that," she said quietly. Behind them, the heavy footfalls of Gimli were evident and the two new friends were talking about the Glittering Caves at Helm's Deep. Aragorn and Morithawen simply listened to them for a while, until the press of dark walls and an ominous nagging presence drove them all to quiet. Or disquiet in Morithawen's case. The walls grew too close in places for the group to travel abreast and she was forced to fall behind Aragorn. She was glad for the nudging of Kellan's nose against her shoulder occasionally, reminding her that the atmosphere likely affected the horse as much as herself. She dropped back until she was walking with her shoulder under Kellan's neck, one hand on the horse's neck. She murmured softly in elvish, more to soothe herself than the horse, but the distraction was welcome.

_'Amin mela lle (I love you).'_

Morithawen closed her eyes and smiled. Legolas did that sometimes, just brushed against her awareness like a loving caress. It had kept her going so often when she would have faltered over the past few months. She sent back a similar mental caress and then continued to concentrate her attention on the horse. She shuddered suddenly, chilled once again. It was an odd feeling. Elves didn't feel the cold so deeply, even in damp, dark under the earth. No, this cold wasn't physical. The soft sounds of feet skittering across stone and the sigh of air across her skin in odd patterns made her tense. Kellan obviously sensed the same things, because she spooked, jerking her reins out of her hands and shoving past her rider and barreling down the tunnel. Morithawen didn't panic. There wasn't anywhere for Kellan to go, really. If nothing else, Aragorn would catch her. Nevertheless, she hurried after the horse.

She tried to ignore the whispered sounds around her as she moved, but the feel of hands grabbing at her hair was unnerving. The quicker she moved, the more 'fingers' she felt in her hair and the louder the whispers became. She murmured a prayer to Illuvitar as she moved after her horse, distracted enough that she didn't notice that she had moved into a darker, narrower branch of the paths. She was too busy trying to convince herself that the whispers of air swirling around her weren't actually what they sounded like; possessive words, greedy ones that made her to skin crawl.

_Mine, hair of gold,  
Mine, skin of pearl,  
Mine, light of sun, mine..._

Legolas was moving rather slow, looking back quite often to keep an eye on Gimli, who was lagging behind himself and Arod. When he heard the commotion ahead of him, he tossed a mental query to Morithawen and she responded with a terse comment about her horse that made him grin and go back to watching out for Gimli. A few moments later, however, the ground and walls around him shuddered and the sound of falling rock echoed from the paths in front of them. A duet of sound echoed back to him as well, one voice Morithawen's scream for her lover and the other the frightened, high-pitched wail of a horse in distress. The sounds became muffled and then cut of completely as the rumbling began to settle. Legolas dropped Arod's reins and ran.

_'Mori? Mela-nin?'_ he called both aloud and mentally. He heard Aragorn's voice echoing back to him as well, obviously concerned as he called for his sister. They met over a pile of rubble in the passageway.

"There was an opening here, but the earth looked unstable and the air was stale..." Aragorn stated with wide eyes, his voice gruff with horror. Legolas felt the same horror crawling up his spine but he fought against it. Around them both, the air bore a faint sound not unlike triumphant laughter. Legolas frowned and began to move aside rock and dirt with his hands. Aragorn joined him immediately and when Gimli arrived and assessed the situation, he joined them as well. As he worked, Legolas reached out with his mind, desperate to find his beloved. For a while, he thought it was useless. His mind could not find the familiar, bright beacon of his beloved's spirit. But when he finally brushed her mind he realized why he hadn't found it sooner. Her spirit was not bright at the moment. In fact, he had never felt it this dark and desperate. But there was also something else, something almost childlike about it.

_'Morithawen, beloved, hold on to the light. I'm coming, my love,'_ he sent as strongly as he could. In his heart, he was terrified for her. She was the most claustraphobic being he had ever known and that was saying something for an elf, of a race of beings who all hated small, dark, closed places. She had been trapped in a crevice for over a week as a child and Elrond had barely pulled her out in time to save her spirit. She had been put there by her mother during the battle that wounded Lady Celebrian at the Redhorn Pass. Both her parents had died that day. Elrond had once told Legolas that for the first decade, he had always feared Morithawen would give in to her grief and follow her parents to the Halls of Mandos. Legolas had seen hints that the trauma still lingered in her heart when the Fellowship had traveled on Caradhras and Moria. Moria had been hardest for her, but she had never been alone, always able to touch. Now, however, she was all alone in the dark.

Next --->

Back to Becky's Fan Fiction 


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Morithawen was panicking. She was trapped beneath rock, dirt and dead horse. Actually, the dead horse was probably the only reason she was still alive. Kellan's body had shielded the worst of the rockfall and had pushed her back far enough to avoid the heaviest of the weight. She struggled frantically to free herself but found her arm, wedged under Kellan's neck and a few medium sized boulders, was stuck fast. Her legs were under the bulk of the horse's body and her torso was covered in a small mound of dirt and rock. Her shoulders and head were in a pocket free of anything larger than pebbles and dust but the dark was so complete that it suffocated her. Her mind retreated into the nightmare that hadn't haunted her dreams in over a century.

"Naneth! Ada!" she wailed as she felt anew the moment when her parents' spirits were pulled from Arda. She was completely and utterly alone. Or was she? A chill crept over her as whispers surrounded her, called to her. She felt cold fingers in her hair, on her face, brushing down her neck.

_Free, beautiful  
Free, leave the world  
Free, mine to be, free...  
_

"Ada? Naneth?" she sobbed. Could their spirits be waiting for her to join them before going to the Halls of Waiting? She reached out to towards the source of the verse, wanting desparately to follow her parents. But her hand felt as if it were plunged into ice and she jerked it back with a cry. She didn't like the cold. Her parents weren't cold. They were warm and loving. She needed to be held and touched and loved. She needed...

_'Morithawen, hold onto the light.'_

...Legolas. The world shifted and the nightmare changed. She was trapped in a crevice with at least one possessive spirit and the weight of a mountain pressing down on her legs. The situation wasn't much better than her previous nightmare but at least this was real. At least someone knew she was here. She fought back the panic and lay still, making her breathing shallow. She strained her ears and was able to make out the sound of rocks being displaced by frantic hands and faint voices before the Dead began another verse.

_Come, be with me  
Come, lover cold  
Come, ever mine, come...  
_

"Go kiss an orc. You'll not have me, even in death," she growled softly in the dark. The ghostly verses stopped then and she felt more than heard the angry wail of frustrated wraiths. It caused the mountain to tremble faintly, only obvious to her because of the press of it on her body and the finite settling of more weight on her legs. She grimaced as she felt something sharp dig into her ankle. At least she could still feel her ankle. 

_'Legolas, please hurry,'_ she sent urgently. She felt the brush of his mind against hers again, obviously relieved. 

_'As fast as elvishly possibly, sweet lover. How are you?'_

_'Trapped, cold...terrified,'_ she mindspoke, not even trying to hide the truth. She didn't mention the whole harassed by ghosts thing, though. No need to worry him further. 

_'Tell us if we make the rocks settle further or move.' _

'It matters not. If I must stay here too long, I fear I will die of grief. Better that I die in your arms than in the dark silence with the Dead,' she answered, some of her fear and desparation creeping into her mindtone against her will. So much for not worrying him. There was no response from her betrothed this time and she knew she had either angered him or drove him to desparation with her declaration. From the heightened sound of rock against rock echoing through the pile of debris on top of her, it could have been either. She felt no more shifting in the rocks and hoped that meant that the rockfall was stable now and that moving it wouldn't cause more rock and earth to fall on herself or her rescuers. That was something she hadn't considered before. She cursed her selfishness and prayed that Gimli's experience in mining and caves would serve them well. Aragorn's quest was too important for him to become buried in a shower of loosened rock. She knew she should send Legolas and Aragorn away. Time was too short to waste rescuing her from her stupidity but she couldn't make herself send them away and she knew they would never leave her anyway, unless it was impossible to get her out safely.

* * *

Gimli tapped the rock in front of him with his axe and frowned. Then he moved back and nodded at Legolas. The elf wrapped his bloodied hands around the sharp edges of the boulder and tugged with all his might. There was a sound like distant thunder and the elf, the man and the dwarf back pedaled over the debris behind them as the rocks shuddered and slid down and towards them in the tunnel like a wave. The cry of pain that met their ears was clear and unmuffled by the rock wall. The carefully planned rockfall served to make the pile of rock collapse, mostly towards them and away from from Morithawen. Once the rock settled again, they all scrambled over them. Gimli held a torch aloft as they moved towards the blood colored bulk of Kellan's body. Legolas leapt over the horse and settled on his knees besides Morithawen, immediately cradling her head in his lap. 

"Is she conscious?" Aragorn asked. Legolas shook his head sadly and brushed dirt from her face. Her golden brown eyes were closed, a sign that all was not well with the elf maid. Aragorn sighed softly and surveyed the situation in the flickering light of Gimli's torch. It was obvious that the body of the horse would have to be moved before they could get the elf out of the passageway. 

"Let's get Kellan moved so we can get her out of this hole. I don't trust the rocks to stay put long," Aragorn said quietly. Legolas nodded and very reluctantly moved, laying Mori's head gently on the ground. The two of them moved the horse enough to free Mori's legs and her arm and then Legolas gathered her body into his arms. Aragorn grabbed the saddlebags from the dead horse and gave the animal one last sorrow-filled glance before he hurried after Legolas back to the main path. To their dismay, the horses were both gone. Aragorn took the torch from Gimli and moved to check on Morithawen. He frowned in concern, but the sound of restless spirits began to murmur around them. 

"We cannot stay here. As much as I want to tend to her now, we must get out of here first. Too much is at stake and we've lost so much time already," the man said quietly to Legolas. His voice was pained, but the look in Legolas' eyes said he agreed with him. That made him a little less guilty as turned and moved quickly forward. Legolas followed him at a swift clip, not hindered much by the weight of his betrothed, and Gimli brought up the rear. Aragorn soon led them out of the dark, narrow passage into a yawning cavern. One wall was carved out into a majestic, elaborate doorway. The other fell into a chasm that echoed darkly for miles beneath the mountain. Even with half of the floor missing there was plenty of stone underfoot and they moved towards the doorway. 

**"Who enters my domain?"**

The booming voice echoed through the cavern, stopping them cold. Between the doorway and the four friends, a specter slowly appeared, a grim transparent form with wispy features and the clothed in shadows of noble armor with a kingly helm on his brow. Aragorn slowly drew Anduril from the scabbard at his hip and stepped towards the wraith. 

"One who would have your allegience," he stated. Behind him, Legolas knelt slowly and laid Morithawen on the ground, standing again with his bow in his hand and an arrow noched. 

**"The dead do not suffer the living to pass. The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it."**

Around the quartet, the dim light of Aragorn's torch flickered through an army of wraiths that seemed to appear from the walls, marching into a tight circle around them, rallying to their leader. Legolas noticed their ghost armor was a mix of rag tag and noble, their weapons swords, pikes, axes and picks. Their faces were a horror to behold, a series of decay and death evident in their unworldly flesh. 

**"The way is shut. Now you must die,"** the King of the Dead said menacingly. Aragorn dropped his torch and took up Anduril in both hands as Legolas let loose his arrow in automatic defense. The arrow passed right through the wraith and clattered to the stone floor many feet behind the ghost as he advanced on Aragorn. The arrow caused him no obvious pause, but when he lifted his sword against Anduril, the sound of metal on metal echoed through the cavern and Aragorn quickly disarmed the King of the Dead and moved Anduril so that it rested beneath the ghostly chin.

**"That blade was Broken,"** the ghost gasped. 

"It has been remade," he said, stepping back from the ghost and lowering his blade. He looked around at the other ghosts and addressed them. 

"I am Isildur's Heir. Fight for me and I will hold your oaths fulfilled. What say you?" he asked, voice commanding a response. He whirled on the King and pointed the tip of Anduril in his direction.

"What say you?!"

* * *

"The Dead...do they follow?" 

Legolas looked down to see Morithawen's eyes open, painfilled but alert. He was glad to see her awake, for they had passed from the Paths of the Dead some time ago, coming out from under the mountain into a rich land. They were mounted again. Thankfully the horses had made their way through the mountain unscathed and were waiting for them in the grassy lands beyond, drinking from the stream that flowed from the mountain. He was worried that the jostling of Arod hadn't woken her before. He held her against him, riding only with his knees to better secure her against the jolting rhythm of the gallop they were keeping. He was leaned forward over her as the wind whipped his braids back. A quick glance over his shoulder gave him an answer to Morithawen's question. 

"The Dead are following. I see shapes of Men and of horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like winter thickets on a misty night. The Dead are following," he said. Morithawen sighed softly and kept her face forward. She had no wish to see the Dead. She saw Aragorn and Gimli on Brego, slowing as they mounted a grassy hill atop which was a stone, a perfectly rounded dark stone buried half in the soft ground and glinting in the moonlight. 

"The Stone of Erech," Morithawen breathed. She knew why they had come here. This stone had been placed here by Isildur himself, a thing of Numenor brought over the sea and placed as a remembrance. Here, beside this stone, Aragorn would bind the Army of the Dead to him until they had fulfilled their oath. Here, also, they could camp safely before they rode on to battle. Aragorn moved over to Arod's side and pulled her from Legolas' arms so that Legolas could dismount. Instead of giving her back, he moved to lay her down on the soft grass. Morithawen made no sound, but she was pale in the moonlight and her breathing was shallow. Aragorn smiled down at her and wiped the dust from her face with a damp cloth.

"Well, _muinthe_l, this is a switch. It's usually you making sure I haven't smashed myself beyond all healing help," he said softly. Mori managed a grin.

"True that. Not to worry, Estel. I will survive to fight another day," she said quietly before she began to cough, triggered by the dust lingering in her throat. The fit lasted long enough to worry all her companions and Aragorn slid his arm behind her head and helped her drink from a waterskin. Once she had calmed, her eyes were closed against pain.

"_Aiya_, that hurts," she said brokenly.

"Your chest, _muinthel_?" Aragorn asked in concern.

"Yes, maybe a bruised rib. But it's my legs I'm worried about," she said quietly. Legolas, who was kneeling opposite Aragorn, pulled one of the knives from Morithawen's belt and swiftly cut the laces on her boots and then slit her leggings to mid thigh. Gimli, until this moment looking on in concern, made himself busy gathering firewood. The next several minutes were quiet, except for an occasional groan from Morithawen when Aragorn had to set a bone.

"The ankle's bad, _mela-nin_, and your right leg is pretty broken up. You won't be walking for a few days, at least until the bones are mostly healed," Legolas said softly as Aragorn began mixing an herbal poultice for the wound on her ankle. Something sharp had ripped a hole in the flesh and gouged the bone. Once that was packed and bandaged, they used some of Gimli's gathered firewood to make a splint. Aragorn was sure there were at least two breaks in her lower leg. He had set both of them. He thought there were numerous fractures as well. Luckily, the left leg had suffered little more than a few large bruises.

"Top it all off with a couple of bruised ribs, a sprained elbow and shoulder and you should be off your feet for a couple of weeks," Aragorn said with a wry smile. Morithawen shook her head and sighed, pushing herself up on her good arm. She recognized the determined look in his eyes and she needed to put an end to his current train of thought.

"And we all know that's not going to happen. I'm not staying here alone and you can't stay with me. Too much is at stake and we cannot afford any wasted time. More than I've already caused, anyway. A little pain will not kill me, Estel. As long as we have a horse to ride, I won't hold you up. Not anymore than our little glowing green army back there, anyway," she said, gesturing at the almost imperceptible gathering of barely there wisps of departed humanity. Aragorn grimaced and stood, glancing at the army himself.

"Will you be alright for a moment, Mori? I need to do this. I'll be back to help Legolas as soon as I can," he asked her in a pained voice. Said elf was currently digging through Aragorn's herb bag.

"Go, Estel. My aches can wait for another few moments. I trust Legolas with my heart and soul, I think I can trust his herbal potions as well," she said quietly. Aragorn nodded and moved off. She looked about and saw Gimli. She beckoned him.

"There is a copse of trees just there to the west, Master Dwarf. Can you find me a deadfall branch of seven or eight feet in length, slender and strong? Or if you must a sapling. Estel will have need of it in a moment," she said softly. Gimli nodded and moved off quickly. By the time Legolas had a mug of tea ready for her to drink, the dwarf was back. Legolas made her drink while Gimli set about stripping the branch of smaller branches and leaves.

"What is the branch for?" the elf asked curiously.

"Arwen's gift," she said softly. "In the saddlebags."

Legolas left the mug with her for a moment and went to Brego, opening the saddlebags and pulling out a length of black cloth. He unfolded it and looked at it for several heartbeats before moving swiftly to Gimli's side. Moments later, Gimli trotted off to stand beside Aragorn, the black banner held aloft on the newly stripped sapling. The silver device of the Kings of Gondor glinted faintly in the moonlight. Aragorn was delivering his speech to the Army of the Dead, promising them rest and peace in return for their loyalty in the fight against Sauron. The appearance of the banner created a stir in the ghostly ranks and she swore she heard a faint cheer ripple across the countryside. She felt a swell of pride for her foster brother that faded slowly along with her consciousness as the herbs in her tea kicked in.

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	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Morithawen woke when Arod broke into a gallop over a particularly rough patch of ground. Thereafter she wished she had stayed in her dreams. They had been pleasant at least, if you discounted the underlying whispers of the Dead that intruded, chanting at her to leave the world with them. She was well past dying, though, despite the fact that now she was awake she had to deal with the dull throbbing of her upper body and the sharp shooting pains of her leg. Legolas realized she was awake and mindspoke her. _'I feared I had overdosed you. We have been riding for hours.'_

'Thank Illuvitar for the healing sleep of the Elves and Estel's herbs. I will not complain that I was unconscious for most of this. How far are we from the river?' she asked sluggishly. She was still a bit groggy from the tea. _'Another hour's ride until we camp so that the horses can rest. Then we ride hard again for the river. Maybe a full day's ride. What are you going to do once we get there? You are in no condition to fight,'_ he stated. She had to think on that one for a moment.

_'Leave me with the horse. I can defend myself with my knives if I must, but I doubt it will come to that. I don't think this new Army of Estel's will have any trouble routing the Corsairs. Then when we reach Pelannor, I'll just stay on the ship,'_ she said, a tone of resignation in her voice. She hated being useless, but she wasn't going to make a hindrance of herself. When they stopped to camp, she drank another mug of tea and woke once more a few hours later. They were already mounted and racing towards the river. The ground was rocky and Arod's gait wasn't as smooth now that he was fatigued. Her leg felt as if someone were digging knives into the breakage points each time his hooves contacted with the ground. Against her back, Legolas leaned in as close as he could, trying to make their bulk more streamlined atop the Rohan steed. She pressed herself flat against Arod's mane and endured as best she could. She allowed tears of pain to flow, freely and silently into the horse's white silky mane. Legolas' hand gently caressed her side as they rode and sang a song near her ear, a soothing ballad of Valinor.

As they rode nearer to the sea, white seabirds flew inland, wheeling overhead with piercing cries. Perhaps it was the ballad mingled with the sound of the gulls that sparked her longing, or maybe it was just the birds, but whatever it was, Legolas felt it too. The sudden urge to see Valinor, to sail away West to the ever peaceful shores, away from all the strife and pain was so powerful that she actually forgot about her pain for a moment.

"I want to go Home," she breathed against Arod's mane, tears of longing now mingled with those of pain. Legolas pressed his lips into her hair and his mindvoice broke on a mental sigh.

_'We cannot go, mela-nin. Not yet. There is so much left to do. But alas, the gulls. Their cries pierce my heart. Lady Galadriel warned me about them. I thought not on her words until now,'_ he mindspoke. The pair of elves spent the next hour fighting their longing. By the time they reached the river, Morithawen's pain was overriding her longing and Legolas was ready for battle against the Corsairs. They made a small camp in the trees sheltering the river shore, making Morithawen as comfortable as possible without a fire. They couldn't warn the ships of their position. Then they left the horses and moved downstream to intercept the ships.

Morithawen was only a little worried about the venture. She wasn't quite sure of the Dead Army's capabilities. But she spent the next half an hour letting her body rest. Her shoulder, wrist and ribs barely even twinged now but her leg ached from the hard ride. She leaned back against a tree and listened intently to the night sounds, waiting for some clue that Legolas was coming for her. What she heard, however, was the faint sound of marching feet. Her heart skipped a beat and she sat back up, listening hard. She didn't start to worry until it became obvious the group of marching...whatevers...were heading in her direction.

"Oh, how very perfect," she muttered, struggling to her feet. She sent a mental warning to Legolas as she steadied herself against a tree. Putting weight on her leg was nearly impossible, but she managed to hobble to where the horses were tethered. For the first time in her life, she wasn't sure of her ability to mount a horse. She needn't have worried. Fear is a serious motivator and she was able to pull herself up into Arod's saddle. It had taken her more time that she was willing to admit and she was in so much pain that she didn't know up from down for a moment. It took having an arrow fired on either side of her to warn her that she had taken too much time. She heard a shout behind her in a language that she only vaguely recognized. She thought it was Haradrim and she was fairly certain she was being told to stay where she was and she wouldn't get hurt. Arod, however, couldn't understand a single world and was spooked by the arrows and the strange voices. He reared up in fear before he bolted. Mori wasn't prepared for the action and she tumbled into a heap on the ground, her head connecting with a large rock. Her starlit world swirled to pitch black.

When Morithawen woke, she found it hard to breathe and the pain in her leg assaulted her in burning waves as she was jolted about. She couldn't understand why it was so dark and why she was curled into a ball, hugging her knees. When she realized why she couldn't see or stretch out she very nearly wailed in distress. She was imprisoned by six smooth wooden walls, a box not quite three feet square. She felt along the sides, desperate for an opening. She put both hands against the top of the box and pushed with all her might. That didn't work so she beat on the wood with the flats of her hands in frustration. All she got in return was a series of sharp thuds from the other side of the box and a muffled shout in Haradrim for her to settle down. Not a chance of that happening. She would rather be taken out of the box and beaten than to be left locked in this tiny space.

_'Legolas?'_ she sent frantically, mentally. The reply she got was faint but relieved. _'Morithawen? Where are you?'_ he pleaded. Just the brush of his mindvoice was enough to calm her spirit a little.

_'Alive, stuck in a box. I'm with a company of Haradrim soldiers, I think. I'm sure we're headed towards the battle, mela-nin.'_

'I am coming for you, A'maela-nin.'

'No! No, Legolas. Stay with Estel. We will meet again in Minas Tirith, I swear it. Go, my warrior. The larger battle is most important and Middle Earth needs you more than I. I love you, Legolas,' she sent as strongly as she could. Those words cost her more than she would ever admit. She could not be selfish now. She would see Minas Tirith and Legolas again, no matter what she had to go through to get there, but she had to face this trial on her own. She hadn't foreseen and she didn't know, but she hoped that pure determination and love would help her keep her vow to see Legolas again.

_'Morithawen...'_

The despair in Legolas' faint mindtone nearly broke her, but she sent one last mental caress and then concentrated on bashing her hands against the inside of the box again. It seemed like forever before her struggles bore any fruit. The top of the box was lifted and she was grabbed roughly by strong arms and dragged up out of the box. She couldn't stop a cry of pain as all her weight was balanced on her bad leg for a moment. Then she was hurled face down to the ground and she lay there for several seconds, gathering herself. In those seconds, she realized that it wasn't so much her frantic beatings that had gotten a response from her captors as the arrival at a camp. A camp filled with orcs.

"Well, if it isn't a pretty bird come to roost in our camp. Do you think it would sing for us, boys?" asked a harsh, amused voice in common. She looked up into the face of her captors and schooled her features to cold indifference. A dirty, rough hand grabbed her chin and pulled her back up. She could not hide the flicker of pain in her eyes when she was forced to use her bad leg again for balance. The orc laughed roughly and wrenched her face from side to side as if inspecting her. His hands scratched her cheeks and tugged on her ears, his rough skin catching on her hair and mussing her braids.

"Pretty little bird indeed. She'll sing for Praskagh, for certain. He loves to break the pretty ones until they sing," he said, sticking his face close to hers. His warm, putrid breath made her light headed and nauseous as he spoke, "Play with her a while and then put her back in the box boys. Don't rough her up too much, though. The chief will enjoy opening this little present."

_'Legolas!'_ she screamed both aloud and mentally as the orc captain pushed her into the crowd of grasping hands. She reached for her knives and the crowd scattered. She didn't have enough, but before she went down, eight orcs lay dead or mortally wounded. Miles away, sailing down the river towards Pelagir, Legolas' heart quivered with anger and frustration. His hand tightened on his bow and his hands echoed the quiver in his heart. Beside him, Gimli peeked over the side of the ship and then reached out to pat Legolas' thigh.

"We're arriving, my friend. Channel that anger, Master Elf. There are orcs to kill," he said gruffly. Legolas didn't respond, but when the boats scraped against the docks, he was completely focused on the battle to come. If his face was a bit more fearsome and his arrows flew with more force, then it was only to his benefit. When he traded his bow for his knives, his fury was a terribly beautiful thing to see as his enemies fell beneath his finely honed, deadly grace.

* * *

Morithawen whimpered when she woke, her entire body screaming in pain. She was curled back in on herself again, the wooden sides of her prison pressing in on her physically and mentally. She understood now what Elrond had meant about her own quest. She wished to go back into her dreams rather than face reality right now. In her dreams, the pain was a distant memory and she could forget the feel of rough hands ripping at her clothes and the bite of the whip against her sensitive skin. The splint on her leg hadn't survived the beating. The strips of cloth tying it had been a target for those with the whips, a contest to see who could cut them away. One of the breaks that had started to mend had rebroken and she knew it needed to be reset before it started to mend wrong. In this one case, the quick healing of elves was against her.

It took her a moment to realize that the box she was in wasn't moving any longer and the sounds coming to her from beyond her tiny prison were the sounds of battle. She heard the thunder of hooves and some distant thunder that she couldn't identify. She was on or near Pelennor, she would bet her very life on it. She was torn between making her presence known and staying quiet. The language of Rohan was obvious in the yells around her, mixed with the screams of dying orcs. It was that very welcome sound that made her start beating on the top of her box with bruised and bloodied hands. She pushed past her pain and fear, crying out for someone to help her. The sounds of battle began to move away from her, becoming more distant. The strength in her arms drained away and her voice became hoarse from her shouts. Despair crept over her and she could only plead in whispers as the sounds around her dwindled away. She gave one final, desperate scream and lashed out with her good leg, kicking the side of her prison before she dissolved into helpless tears.

Morithawen wasn't sure how long she waited in the darkness. Minutes, hours or days she waited, sometimes stirring to beat weakly on the box lid or shout hoarsely. Twice she thought she heard horses approaching but both times there was no response to her weak attempts to draw some attention. As her wooden prison cooled with the sinking of the sun, she began to feel the chill. If she hadn't been hurting so much, she might have worried that she was feeling the cold. Instead she slipped deep into the arms of despair as the hope that she would be found slowly died. Her last thought was of her beloved.

"Oh Legolas. I'm sorry."

* * *

"Elladan, what are you doing? The sun has set, my twin, and I'd like to make the city before it rises again," Elrohir stated wryly, glancing over his shoulder at his twin. The elder of the pair had turned his horse to trot over to another of the numerous circles of dead orcs and men scattered on the edges of Pelannor. They had already passed so many pockets of death that they could do nothing but avert their eyes and keep riding. They could do nothing for so many with the small group of Dunedan they rode with. This time, however, Elladan had been drawn to this particular wooded area by something he couldn't put a finger on.

"Peace, Ro. I don't know why, but something tugs at me here," he said. Elrohir sighed softly and motioned for the Dunedan to ride on before reining his mount closer to his brother's. It was a moment before the hoofbeats from the Dunedan horses faded away but after that the twins sat quietly, listening to the night wind. Just as Elrohir was about to tell Elladan they had to move, a muffled sound broke the quiet. It might have been missed by any other than Elven hearing, but Elladan was off his horse and across the clearing like a shot. He shoved an orc body from a large wooden trunk and studied the lock on the trunk as Elrohir dismounted and walked over at a slower pace.

"It didn't sound like an animal," he stated quietly.

"No. In fact, if I'm not mistaken it was an apology. In Elvish. Ai, brother, do you think you can pick this lock?" Elladan asked in distress. Elrohir brushed his brother aside and examined the lock closely in the moonlight.

"Perhaps, if I had more light," he said. Elladan nodded and moved to a still smoldering firepit, stirring the coals until he had enough heat to light a torch. He stood over Elrohir with the light as the younger twin used a slim dagger and a metal pin on the lock. After a few moments, it clicked open and they quickly opened the box. Their gasps were as identical as their features and they both reached to pull their bloodied and broken foster sister from the wooden box.

"She's cold, Ro. But her fea still remains," Elladan said grimly, pulling the battered elf maiden close. Elrohir nodded.

"We need to get her to father," he said softly. Elladan shook his head.

"He's days behind us, Ro. We don't have that much time. No, we need to find Estel and Legolas."

About an hour later, the twins thundered into the city of tents pitched on the plains of Pelannor. Their precious burden rode in front of Elladan wrapped in a heavy cloak. Their terse inquires about Lord Aragorn pointed them towards a large tent in the center of the camp. Elrohir dismounted first and took Morithawen from Elladan. The guards in front of Aragorn's tent, a pair of Dunedan, reached out and drew back the flaps of the tent without question. Aragorn was sitting at a small table with his head in his hands. When he looked up, Elrohir managed a grim smile.

"You look like something the Orcs dragged in, Estel," he greeted. The words didn't even register on the man. He was already across the tent with his hands on the folds of the cloak, peeling them back.

"Oh, Mori," he sighed. He looked up at Elrohir and then back at Elladan. The elder twin had swept into the tent after Elrohir. He nudged his brother towards the bed and spoke to Aragorn quietly.

"What happened to her, Estel? We found her locked in a box on the edge of Pelannor, surrounded by dead orcs. Her light is nearly gone out and her body is broken," he said. Aragorn followed Elrohir and completely uncovered his foster sister. There were tears in his eyes as he realized she had been stripped and flayed until every inch of her skin was stained with blood.

"She was injured on the Paths of the Dead and we left her by the river when we went to take the Corsair's ships. She was taken by the Haradrim and then passed off to the Orcs," he stated softly as he moved his hands to her leg and grimaced. He shouted for the two Dunedan at the entrance of his tent.

"Horuan, send someone into the city to find Legolas and then order me a tub and as much hot water as can be brought. Moranik, see if you can find me some athelas and some clean bandages. I'll need something to use as a splint as well. I don't care if you bring me a pair of broken pikes, anything."

* * *

When Legolas pushed into Aragorn's tent, the man and Elladan had Morithawen immersed to her neck in steaming water. Crushed athelas sprinkled over the water made the atmosphere inside the tent fresh and each breath was a soothing balm to the spirit. No amount of athelas could soothe the storm in Legolas' heart, however, as he dropped to both knees beside the wooden tub. Elladan relinquished his place at Morithawen's head. Legolas' hands wove through the damp red-gold strands as he cradled her head. His thumbs brushed her cheeks gently as if brushing away tears, only the tears were on his own cheeks. Elladan met Aragorn's eyes over the Mirkwood prince's head and their expressions were grim. Aragorn was very glad that he had washed the blood from Mori's face and hair as soon as he had enough water to do so. He was also glad this was the second tub of water. The first has been stained pink with Morithawen's blood. 

"Oh, _mela-nin._ You have broken my heart into small pieces. Come back to me, my beautiful ray of light. Don't leave me here alone," Legolas whispered softly in elvish. Aragorn fought tears of his own. He had never seen Legolas so vunerable, not even when Morithawen had been buried under rubble in the Paths of the Dead. He thought he knew why. Legolas did not have the option of digging through rock to pull her out to safety. This time, he had been forced to wait and count on fate to bring her back to him. It had shaken him. Aragorn was as worried about his friend as he was about his foster sister. If Morithawen didn't pull through, Legolas wouldn't survive the grief her passing would bring.

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	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Mori knew she was dreaming. There was nothing in the world so bright and warm and beautiful, except perhaps her feelings for Legolas, but those were not a physical manifestation. She opened her eyes and found herself standing on the sea shore, warm white sand under her bare feet and water lapping at her feet as blue as Legolas' eyes. In the shallows was a small boat with a delicately carved swan on the bow. Two figures stood under the white sail, arm in arm. Their tender smiles were familiar to her. 

"Naneth? Ada? Am I dead?" she asked curiously. The two elves exchanged glances and then her father dropped gracefully into the water and waded towards her. He stopped while he was still ankle deep in the lapping water. She stepped forward to throw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. 

"Dead, little feather? Do you wish to join us, then?"

Morithawen looked up to see her mother standing just behind her father. She stepped out of her father's arms and into her mother's. She laid her head against her mother's shoulder and sighed.

"I miss you so much and I have so much I want to talk to you about. And there is so much pain, and shame," Morithawen said softly. Just the memory of those rough, blackened hands on her body made her shiver with fear and revulsion. She actually preferred the pain over the thought of being defiled by the touch of filthy orcs, but the thought of facing either made her tremble. Her mother murmured comforting words and then drew her further out into the water. Her knees were wet. She looked up and saw her father was already pulling himself back into the boat and was leaning over to help her up.

"Come with us, Morithawen. Come with us and rest," he said, with a coaxing smile. She put her hand up to grasp his wrist but she hesitated when a gentle breeze carried the sound of a lament. Legolas was crying. The thought of her beloved caused a jolt of pain from the bottom of her toes to the top of her head. She cried out and fell back into the water. Her mother caught her and the pain subsided.

"What troubles you, little feather?" Lymerawen asked gently. Morithawen leaned back against her mother for a moment and then sighed, looking up at her father. His eyes, before a gentle, loving mirror of her own, were for just a moment full of grief and sadness the color of a sky at midnight without stars. They returned to warm amber again, but she hadn't mistaken that flash of indigo blue.

"Legolas grieves for me," she whispered. The sound of the lament swelled around her along with the waves on the sea. Her pain returned threefold and the sun was suddenly blocked out by dark clouds. Her mother's arms were little comfort.

"Come with us, little feather," the gentle woman pleaded, trying to push Morithawen forward as the waves began to crash against the little boat. It rocked in the swells and the anchor wouldn't hold long. Morithawen trembled.

"I cannot leave him, Naneth."

"He will follow us soon, my daughter, if you choose to come," Anarorn said from the boat, nearly shouting to be heard over the now howling wind. Morithawen reached out again to catch her father's hand, but she only wanted to get closer so that she could hear him without straining. He immediately pulled her into the boat. The howling wind began to abate and the swells didn't rock to hard now. Her mother was suddenly in the boat behind her. Morithawen clasped her father's hands and although grateful that the pain subsided again, it frightened her. Because her pain seemed to coincide with Legolas' lament, which had faded to merely a whisper on the wind.

"Ada, does he love me so much?" she asked softly, looking into eyes that were so much a mirror of her own, only where her own held pain and questions, his held a deep sadness. "Would he die of heartbreak if I were to leave with you?"

"Yes, Morithawen. Legolas' fea is bound to yours. Where you are, he will always try to follow," her father said gently. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was reluctant to tell her this information. He didn't seem surprised when Morithawen pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill. Her parents moved together again, arm in arm as they regarded her. She gave them a sad smile. Behind her, the wind began to pick up again and rain began to fall in great, fat droplets.

"Legolas would die for me, but it is not his time to go. Therefore I must live for him. I love you, I do, but I cannot come with you now," she stated gently, tears slipping down her cheeks as she stepped back against the side of the boat. Her parents both wore sad expressions, but she thought she saw pride there as well. She lifted her hand to wave and then turned, throwing herself out of the boat and into the choppy waters. She battled her way back towards the sand, hoping that the steadily increasing pain would not stop her before to reached dry land. She was in water to mid-calf when she slipped and fell, crying out as the pain became a consuming fire.

Gentle hands caught her and pulled her from the water. She tried to open her eyes but they felt heavy and bruised. Something soft pressed into her back, not sand, and a breath of warm air chilled her damp skin. Voices murmured gently, familiar sounds that comforted as well as warned. The searing pain centered on her leg and she opened her mouth to scream but no sound emerged. She felt the warm droplets on her face and neck, tasted the salt of them. Tears, not her own. She felt the tender kisses on her cheek, her eyes, her lips. Each brush caused both comfort and pain as they touched bruises and cuts, but she concentrated on those sensations to distract from her leg.

* * *

"She was gone, Estel. For a moment or two, her fea was gone," Elladan whispered softly. He stood across the tent with Aragorn and Elrohir, the three of them giving Legolas and Morithawen at least a bit of privacy. The Mirkwood Prince was curled up on the narrow cot at the back of the tent, cradling Morithawen against him. They were both covered with thick blankets and furs and Legolas' voice could still be heard singing softly, for the first time in over an hour not thick with the sound of tears. Aragorn had finally had a chance to ask Elladan and Elrohir about the lament that Legolas had begun singing a while ago, the words haunting and so full of despair that Aragorn had felt goosebumps rise on his skin and they still hadn't disappeared completely. He had been too involved in bathing Morithawen's cuts and then setting the break in her leg to let himself give into the fear that he might lose his sister. It wasn't so much the physical injuries that worried him as those to her soul. She had been through such dark times and had endured horrible things. His hope that she would pull through hinged on the fact that she hadn't been sexually assaulted. That violation would have destroyed any desire she had to remain in Middle Earth.

"Something pulled her back, more than likely Legolas. The Valar be praised for that mercy," Elrohir chimed in quietly. Aragorn simply nodded. He wasn't needed in the role of healer right now and the fact that his sister had died, if only for a moment, hit him hard. He felt his knees tremble and was glad when the twins each took an arm and led him quietly from the tent. Once outside, they found a cookfire and all sat and turned talk to other things. The battle for Middle Earth wasn't over yet. Much was still to be done.

* * *

Morithawen woke to the sound of birds and the feel of sun on her face. It was the first time she had come fully awake in two days and she knew immediately that Legolas was not nearby. He had been a constant presence in her mind since she had turned away from her parents and decided to stay with him rather than go. She knew he was gone not only because his presence was absent, but also because he had told her farewell. Even in her dreams she had savored the lingering kiss he had left on her mouth before he had gone. To Mordor with Estel and Gimli to provide a distraction for Frodo and Sam. It was her job to stay here and heal. Here being the Halls of Healing in Minas Tirith, unless she missed her guess.

"My lady?" asked a quiet voice from beside her bed. She made the effort to turn her head and open her eyes. She gave the woman beside her bed a slight smile and was rewarded with a beaming smile in return. The woman's face was careworn and quite wrinkled, but her eyes were sharp and bright blue.

"Good to see you awake, Lady Morithawen. That young man of yours was so worried, not to mention Lord Aragorn and a passel of other young people. Even those little hobbits were asking after you. How bad is your pain, Lady? Can I get you anything to drink or to eat?" she asked cheerfully.

"Water?" Morithawen asked softly, her voice barely a whisper. The woman was obviously expecting that, because she had leaned in close and was watching her lips intentely. She nodded and offered a small waterskin, holding it so that just a trickle fell between her open lips. She swallowed and then closed her eyes again. She must have fallen into another healing sleep because when she next opened her eyes, the old woman was gone. In her place was a familiar face. She didn't bother to hide her surprise.

"Eowyn?" she asked, glad that her voice was stronger. The golden hair woman gave her a wan smile. She looked tired and heartsore, but her voice was warm.

"Lord Aragorn asked me to look in on you," she said. Morithawen nodded but must have still looked confused, because she spoke further. "I rode into battle with my people. It was an eye opening experience that I do not wish to have again. I met the Lord of the Nazgul and suffered the Black Breath. Your brother saved me."

Morithawen smiled again. Estel would be one of the few Men alive to know a cure for Black Breath. A little bit of athelas and some tender, loving care. She smelled a lingering essence of athelas here and knew she had Estel to thank for that.

"That sounds like Estel. He always did have a special talent for healing," she stated quietly.

"Estel?" Eowyn asked curiously.

"Aragorn's Elvish name. It means Hope," she said with a warm smile. Eowyn was quiet for moment after that and Morithawen took the time to access herself. She was hurting but it was a dull ache now. Her greatest ache was from her leg and it was set in a plaster cast. Each breath caused a slight twinge in her chest, but nothing to be overly worried about. She knew if she looked in a mirror she would see a multitude of yellowed bruises and half healed cuts and welts. Overall, she was in decent shape and should be up and about in another day or two. It was amazing what a couple of days in bed could do for an elf.

"They have gone to Mordor," Eowyn said out of the blue. Morithawen focused her attention back on the woman and nodded.

"Aye. Legolas let me know," she said softly. Eowyn looked startled and opened her mouth to ask a question and then closed it again. No doubt she had been informed that Mori hadn't woken until after the men had left. Morithawen resisted the wicked smile she wanted to give the woman. It was nice to keep some things mysterious about her race. What Eowyn had heard about them would only be fueled by her imagination and stories. When Eowyn finally spoke again, it was about something more serious.

"Do you think they have a chance of returning?"

"There is always a chance. Good will eventually take the victory. We can only pray that it will happen in our lifetime and not that of our children or children's children," Mori said gently. Eowyn scowled a bit.

"If we even have children," she muttered. Morithawen bit back a sigh and then paused for a moment. After a while, a smile began to form on her lips. This young lady was bitter about Aragorn's rejection but she was soon to find someone to drive all thought of that from her mind.

"You know, you should go out into the gardens. It is such a beautiful day and the fresh air will do you much good," she suggested. Eowyn looked startled by her suggestion. Morithawen just nodded at her and asked that she stop and request a meal for her first. After Eowyn was gone, the smile faded. Morithawen envied her that ability to go out into the gardens. At the moment, she was stuck in bed. At least the windows were open. With that last thought and a quick prayer to Illuvitar for the safety of her beloved and her brother, she drifted back into a normal, open eyed rest while waiting for her food to come.

* * *

"Trust me, Mirtha. The cast can come off. It has been a full two weeks and I promise that it is healed. I wish to take a bath before my betrothed arrives. Mithrandir is certain they will arrive within the next day," Morithawen said. She was arguing with her elderly nurse, who was still in amazement over the fast healing of her cuts and bruises. The dark worry hanging over Minas Tirith had disappeared when word came that Mordor was defeated and the ring had been destroyed. Without fear and doubt to shadow her healing, the last lingering pain had faded away. 

"My Lady, I fear that if you take off the cast now, it could damage your leg. Please wait until Lord Aragorn returns," she pleaded. Morithawen sighed softly and shook her head. 

"If you do not take it off, Mirtha, I will take it off myself. Please trust me. Elves heal fast, faster when their hearts are full of joy. The only thing holding a shadow over my spirit is the thought of greeting Legolas in this ungainly thing," she said quietly, looking directly into the other lady's sharp blue eyes. Mirtha narrowed her eyes for a moment and then sighed, nodding. Twenty minutes later, Mori was lounging in a tub of warm water up to her neck. She thought back over the events of the past two weeks and smiled. Other than the destruction of Sauron and the Ring, there were many good things. One of those was Eowyn and Faramir's romance. Morithawen still found human courting rituals to be whirlwind fast, but their lives were so short they couldn't spend fifty years just getting to know the person they were going to marry. The next good thing was the return of Mithrandir to Minas Tirith with the Eagles. That in itself was wonderful, but when they had Frodo and Sam in tow, it was an occasion for joy and celebration. Not that the hobbits were aware of much. Their trek into Mordor had cost them physically and both were still recovering. She had been overjoyed when she had looked in on Sam earlier today and he was alert. She had helped him eat his first meal in over a week. She had laughed to hear him complain that he could only have weak broth. She had missed the hobbits and their appetites. 

As the water began to cool, she stirred herself to wash her hair and scrub herself clean. Once she was out of the tub she toweled herself dry and sat down to brush out her hair. Her eyes gravitated to the dress hung in the window to air and she smiled happily. With a little help from Mirtha and Eowyn, she had gathered the material and had used her time in bed to sew the dress. Just where Mirtha had found the gossamer thin, incredibly fine veil she wouldn't tell, but it laid over the heavier forest green silk like a mist. The sleeves were not finished just yet. She would be doing some embroidery on them before her wedding. She wanted to talk to Arwen about her headress, however. She was almost certain her foster sister would be in Minas Tirith before the next full moon. She almost hoped that Luthawen would be with her. She missed her friend and was hoping that she hadn't already taken herself to the Gray Havens and into the West. 

A second dress was laid out on her bed, a simpler one of russet and brown. This is what she slipped into before she literally skipped out of the room. She made her way out into the gardens and began to sing softly as she visited with the trees and flowers there. After a while, however, that made her restless. She left the gardens and moved up to the long marble terrace that led up to the Grand Hall. She didn't walk towards the Hall. The White Tree of Gondor depressed her greatly. It was dead. She knew that it would be replaced before Estel as crowned, but she had no idea how he was going to find another sapling. 

The guards did little more than glance at her and she was surprised but didn't approach any of them. She moved to the wall and leapt up onto the top of it. The foot-wide stones were a perfect path and the view from there was amazing. There were times, however, that she was glad of her elven hearing. The Guards were moving towards her at a swift pace and if she hadn't heard them, she might have been startled into a fall. She turned on her heel and faced them, knowing immediately the problem. They were concerned for her safety. She could understand the concern since it was quite a drop on the other side of the wall, but as an Elf, she spent much of her life in the trees. Narrow footpaths and long drops didn't phase her. To appease them, however, she got down and leaned against the wall. One of the guards continued to hover near her, but she tuned him out. She was watching the horizon. 

After an hour of standing completely still, staring into the distance, Morithawen's guard finally moved away and left her alone. She continued to stare for another hour before she stirred, a smile on her face as she turned away from the wall and dashed for the steps down into the heart of the city. She didn't quit running until she had reached her room in the Halls of Healing. She pulled on an olive green cloak and flipped up the hood. It had been a gift from Faramir after a walk through the city with herself and Eowyn had caused more than one collision in the streets. It was telling to Morithawen. Fifty years ago the common people of this city all saw elves on occasion. Now it seemed that Elves were becoming more legend than fact. She wondered what kind of reaction Estel's marriage to Arwen would cause. 

There was no real need to hurry. She had seen the small army when they were still beyond Osgilgath. It would be another two hours before they arrived in the city. Not that she was going to wait two hours. Having a human foster brother, she had a very unelfin sense of urgency when it came to time with her loved ones. When she reached the lower level, she went to the stables and commandeered a horse for the afternoon. As she rode through the lower level toward the gate, she was pleased to see that the damage from the Battle of Pelennor Fields was being cleared and buildings were being rebuilt. There was quite a bit of bustle on this level and she had to guide her spirited gelding through work crews and groups of curious onlookers. When she finally reached the gate, the horse was ready for a run. She gave her name to the guards at the gate and then leaned down over the horse's neck and whispered encouragement in his ear. He was off like an arrow shot, galloping down the wide access road to the city and then across the plains.

* * *

The mood in the ranks was quiet. Victory over the Dark Lord could only carry someone so far before physical reality caught up with them, especially when those that made the victory possible very probably had not survived the destruction of Mordor. On top of the grief, everyone was bone weary, dirty and hungry. They were moving slowly to accommodate the injured. The worst of the wounded had been left behind in a camp until help could be sent back to them. At the head of the column rode Aragorn, talking quietly with Legolas. The elf was walking beside Aragorn's horse since Arod was being used to transport someone with an injured leg. 

"I cannot believe you promised him you would go back to Helm's Deep. You hate caves," Aragorn was saying. Legolas grimaced but nodded. 

"It will be worth it. He has agreed to come back to Fangorn with me. It is time he learned a little more respect for trees," Legolas said with a slight smile. Aragorn shook his head. 

"I'm sure he thinks you need a little more respect for caves, too," he stated. Legolas rolled his eyes. Aragorn grinned, marveling at the playful side that Gimli seemed to bring out in his elven friend. It was also good to see him in a better mood. Aragorn thought that might have something to do with the fact they should reach Minas Tirith late this afternoon and he would be able to see for himself if Morithawen was well. He had done nothing but worry about her since they had left her two weeks ago, lost in dreams and healing sleep. Aragorn himself was a little worried, but he had too many other things dancing around in his head to be able to give it much thought. If she was in serious trouble, Legolas would know it. He always seemed so in tune with Morithawen, so much so that they could speak mind to mind when they were together and even when they were apart if the need was great enough. 

"Someone rides from Minas Tirith at a gallop. Do you think it is a messenger, Legolas?" 

Elladan had moved up beside them, pointing off into the distance. Aragorn peered into the distance but didn't see anything. He hadn't expected to. Legolas, however, shaded his eyes and nodded. 

"Perhaps," he said, drawing out the word. Something about the rider made him pause. It wasn't until a half hour later that he was certain. 

"It is Morithawen," he said softly, surprise and joy in his voice. Aragorn looked down at him in surprise and then he dismounted his horse, offering Legolas the reins. The elf looked at him for a moment and then smiled, leaping onto the back of the horse and digging in his heels. The fine chesnut stallion sprang into a run. Aragorn grinned and turned towards his foster brother. Elladan chuckled softly, a sound filled with relief. Morithawen must be alright if she was riding out to meet them. An hour later, they came across the two elves, sitting in the tall grass under a spreading oak tree waiting for them to catch up. They were both smiling and looked completely peaceful and composed. Aragorn wasn't fooled in the least. He whispered softly in Morithawen's ear when he gathered her close for a hug. She laughed softly and actually blushed as she glanced over at Legolas. Legolas just smiled as if he knew the greatest secret in the world. Once they were back on the road, however, he pulled Mori close and whispered a question. She grinned and didn't answer verbally. She just reached over and ran a finger down the braid that ran behind his right ear. Legolas chuckled wryly. 

"Damned Rangers. Never miss a thing, do they?" he murmured, understanding now what Aragorn had seen. His braids had been redone and he knew from experience that Morithawen had neater hands than he did. Morithawen laughed. 

"I should hope not. He had a good teacher," she said gently. Legolas sighed. 

"Teachers, Morithawen. You practically raised him yourself. As proud as I am of him, I can only imagine how much you feel. He is ready for the crown. Maybe not completely willing, but he's ready for it and he knows the people need him," he said quietly. Morithawen nodded and wrapped her arm around Legolas' waist and laid her head on his shoulder, a tender smile on her face. 

"I cannot wait until we have a little Estelion to teach as well," she said. Legolas was quiet for a moment before responding to her telepathically. 

'That is assuming that there will be a queen to Aragorn's king.' 

'Not to worry my love. Estel may have tried to send Arwen away, but she is most stubborn. There will be a wedding and at least one little Estel to spoil,' she replied, a laugh in her mindtone. Legolas looked at her, shock evident in the slight widening of his eyes. Then a smile blossomed on his face and his eyes sparkled with mirth. Morithawen wished for some privacy at that moment, for his beautiful face filled her with such joy and desire that she wanted to kiss him until the moon was full again. She settled for a mental caress and then smiled wickedly. 

'You know, little Estel will need a playmate.' 

Next --->

Back to Becky's Fan Fiction 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

"You knew and you didn't say anything!" 

Morithawen planted her fists on her hips and raised one eyebrow at her foster brother. Aragorn actually looked angry with her. Her expression must have cued him that he was treading dangerous ground so he ducked his head a little and looked remorseful. She sighed. 

"I thought it would be a nice surprise, Estel. Is this why you've been avoiding me for a week?" 

"It is a nice surprise. It's just...oh, I'm being childish," he said, suddenly looking more dejected than angry or remorseful. She moved closer to him and took his face in her hands, turning his eyes to hers. 

"It's just what, Estel?" she asked gently. He sighed. 

"You told Legolas," he said softly, a blush rising on his cheeks. Morithawen couldn't help the amused smile that curved her mouth. 

"You are jealous, Estel. Jealous of your best friend," she said in amazement. He grumbled something too quiet for even her to hear and she kissed his nose. 

"There is nothing to be jealous about, Estel. I did not tell Legolas. If he knew, it was not by my telling. Though he did mention Frodo and Sam. My reaction may have given him enough suspicion to guess they were alive," she said softly. It was endearing to her that Aragorn actually felt comfortable enough with her to express jealousy and fear. He was right, however, that it was childish of him. But she had been a mother figure for him and he hadn't grown out of leaning on her emotionally. She wasn't going to complain. It was good to have people in your life that you felt comfortable leaning on. 

"Oh. Now I feel even worse," he said with a sigh. She pulled him into a hug and chuckled. 

"Well you should. But this was truly something that I should have told you as soon as I met you. I apologize," she said wryly. He grunted a bit and didn't let her go for a long moment. 

"So that means you won't be springing anymore 'nice surprises' on me in the near future?" 

"Don't count on it," she said happily. He pushed her away playfully and turned to look at the newly planted White Tree. He had found a sapling growing in the mountains beyond the city and she had helped Legolas plant it. Between the two of them, they had managed to coax it into joyous health. It had already grown beyond their expectations and it was going to blossom in the next few days. It would be beautiful on Coronation day. And on the wedding day. She was fairly certain the wedding would follow the coronation fairly quickly. Arwen would make sure of that if Aragorn did not. 

"So, have you set a date for the wedding yet?" 

Morithawen was startled, glancing over at Aragorn in surprise. Odd that he chosen to talk about something that was on her mind as well. There were times when she was suspect of the man's emphatic abilities. That might explain his excellent diplomatic skills. 

"We have to make the decision where to have it first. Legolas wants his father here and I want Ada and you and the twins there. Thranduil has much to do in Mirkwood and you have so much to do here. We will just have to wait until there is time for everyone to get together," she said. She tried to keep the wistful tone out of her voice but she knew he picked it up, because he pulled her into another hug. 

"We'll work something out, muinthel. Don't worry. Legolas has been a bachelor for far too long," he said. Morithawen smiled a bit and laid her head on his shoulder. 

"I could not agree more, _muindor_."

* * *

Morithawen's screams brought Legolas running from the balcony. He had been watching the stars while Morithawen rested in her dreams. He caught himself short when he saw her, sitting up in the bed with a knife in her hand, poised to throw. Her face was a mask of terror and pain that tore his heart in two. He had been so amazed by her seeming perfect recovery from her recent trauma. Now he knew that she still had shadows in her soul that only time and love could help soothe away. He could only imagine what memories had invaded her dreams to make her wake like this. "Put down the knife, _mela-nin_. I will not harm you," he said softly.

"_Aiya_, Legolas. Do not come near. Hide, my prince. Hide!" she whispered desparately, eyes still unfocused and unseeing. He realized that she was still dreaming.

"Morithawen, come back to the light, sweet lover. Wake up and see that you are safe," he said softly as he leaned across the bed and touched her face. She flinched from him and slashed out with the knife. Luckily, he had been expecting such a response and was able to jump back with no more than a slice in his silk tunic. He had to bring her out of her dreams before she managed to hurt him or worse, herself. He moved back towards her and managed to grab her wrist this time. Now that he was touching her, he could reach out mentally, slipping into her mind. It was an invasion that he had never tried before and hoped never to do again, not without express permission. The touch of Morithawen's mind made him want to recoil. It was dark with pain, fear and despair. Instead of drawing back, he wrapped himself around the dark feelings and slipped into them, into the dreams that haunted Morithawen.

"No, no, _mela-nin_. Do not come here," she pleaded with him. He ignored her and found himself surrounded by dark shadows that lashed out with fiery lances. He jerked in pain as one of them touched his skin. He growled in frustration, turning to Morithawen. He ignored the terror and pain and took her face in his hands, looking into eyes so dark they seemed black. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, ignoring the fact that it felt warm and sticky, as if he were smearing blood. He ignored the red stain and the gasp of pain as well.

"Morithawen, this is a dream. Look at me, little feather. It is only a dream. Trust me, my love, and come back with me. I won't let them hurt you any more," he said gently, ignoring the fact that the fiery lances were still biting at his skin. She finally focused completely on him and to his great relief, the fiery lances disappeared and the shadows cleared. Her eyes filled with tears and she collapsed against him. He cradled her to himself and whispered soothing words. Once he was sure she was calm, he stepped out of her dreams and 'pulled' her with him. He was surprised to find them both kneeling on the floor, her knife pinning his sleeve to the small wooden table beside the bed. He tore the silk away from the knife so that he could stand, tugging Morithawen up with him. She hadn't lifted her face from his neck and the dampness of her tears soaked his collar. He stroked her back tenderly and whispered in her ear.

"Are you alright, _mela-nin_?"

"I will be," she mumbled softly, her lips moving like butterflies on his skin.

"Why now, little feather? You always seem to rest peacefully. What triggered this dreaming?" he asked carefully. She lifted her face then, looking at his eyes. Her own eyes were wet with tears and her sigh was deep and troubled.

"I spoke with Frodo and Sam yesterday, for the chronicles. There is such pain and shadow in Frodo now, Legolas. The Ring tried so hard to corrupt his soul. I fear for him," she said quietly. Legolas thought for a moment about his response. He had seen the shadow on Frodo himself, but it hadn't affected him as deeply as it had Morithawen. Perhaps she saw in Frodo what she feared was in herself.

"He has Sam to see him through, and many other friends who love him dearly. No shadow can block out the sun forever, my love, as long as you seek for the light. Are you seeking for the light, meleth-nin?," he asked softly. "I have found my light, Legolas. I'm just so afraid that I have too many shadows for my light to drive away," she said brokenly. He realized in that moment that he was her light, just as she was his. He murmured a tender vow in her ear.

"Give it a century or two, Morithawen. Our love will burn away all of your doubts and fears until the shadows have nowhere left to hide," he said gently. At those words, she wrapped herself around him and clung for a very long time.

* * *

"Satisfied?"

"No, try on the veil, too. I want to see how it's all going to look. Oh, Morithawen, you are so very beautiful," Luthawen breathed as she stepped back after adjusting the misty golden veil. Evidently Luthawen hadn't been able to sleep and she had asked Morithawen to try on her wedding gown. Morithawen had been a little exasperated to be woken from pleasant dreams before daybreak, but she hadn't seen Luthawen in months. It wouldn't kill her to keep the elf company. She actually blushed when her friend stared at her with sparkling eyes.

"Don't, Luthawen. You will inflate my ego to the size of Elladan's," she stated softly. Luthawen giggled and then took her friend's hands in her own.

"I don't think you could ever have an ego like Elladan. Do you have any slippers to go with this dress, Mori? No? Well, I have the perfect pair. Come with me," Luthawen said with a happy smile, drawing her friend from the room and down the corridor. Morithawen protested.

"Luthawen, there is no need to try on slippers. I will be getting married with my bare feet touching the earth," she said firmly. Luthawen chuckled softly.

"You always were too stubborn to know when shoes were appropriate, _mellon-nin_. Alright then. No shoes. But I think we should go walk in the gardens and watch the sunrise," she said, not slowing down as they moved through the quiet, marble corridors. Morithawen just let herself be pulled along, slightly bemused by her friend's behavior. She had been so thrilled when Luthawen arrived in the group of elves accompanying Elrond and Arwen a little less than a week ago. Since that time, Luthawen had been a walking contridiction. She was overjoyed to be with Mori one moment and seemed distracted and depressed the next. So, a walk in the gardens did sound nice, especially if it would make Luthawen happy. The gardens would be quiet this morning, a pleasant change from the hustle and bustle of the Royal Wedding Reception the day before. She hadn't been able to hear herself think, much less what the trees were saying. As they approached the doors to the gardens, Morithawen could actually hear the trees. That was fairly unusual. They were excited about something but she couldn't tell what. Sometimes reading the trees could be difficult, especially when they were all talking at once. Perhaps it was just the presence of so many elves in the city.

When they reached the doors, Morithawen was startled to see them open before they reached them. Elrond stood framed in the early dawn light, dressed in full ceremonial robes, much as he had been the day before. Morithawen would have thought he hadn't changed from the night before, but his robes the day before had been green and silver. Today they were russet and gold. Luthawen gave Elrond a small curtsey and ducked around the elven lord into the gardens. Elrond reached out and ran his hand down Mori's veil, a tender smile on his face.

"Good morning, _sella-nin_."

"Good morning, _Ada_. What brings you out so early?" she asked with a somewhat bemused smile. Elrond chuckled softly but didn't respond. He simply took both of her hands in his own, drawing her out into the gardens. She sighed softly as her bare feet were bathed in the dewy green grass and the tendrils of hazy morning sunlight fell on her face. Only after she had welcomed the morning did she notice the other elves in the gardens, gathered under the trees. They were all dressed in their finest and stood watching her with smiles of encouragement and joy. Then her father stepped to the side and she saw a beautiful archway of vines and flowers framing her betrothed in full ceremonial robes of green and gold. Behind him stood his father Thranduil, Aragorn, Gimli and the twins, Elladan and Elrohir. There were a handful of mortals in the garden besides Aragorn. The hobbits, Faramir and Eowyn, Eomer and even Mirtha from the Houses of Healing were there. She only noticed them in passing, however, because she had eyes only for her beloved.

_'Meleth-nin?'_ she questioned silently. His answering smile was enough to make her fae blaze like the mid day sun. The hobbits gaped, Mirtha gasped and even a few of the elves gazed at her in amazement. Even when Galadriel stepped forward in silver white finery, all eyes followed Morithawen forward. It wasn't until Galadriel stepped between her and Legolas that Morithawen stopped. She was upset that her view of Legolas was blocked, but Galadriel caught her chin in one hand and gazed into her eyes.

'Do not fear the darkness, for you have found the purest light in your love for Legolas. Your life together will be blessed with light and laughter, my child.'

With those words, Galadriel reached up and placed a crown of tiny white blossoms on her head. Then she stepped away again, leaving a clear path to Legolas once more. Elrond didn't seem inclined to hurry, however, and she was forced to walk slowly. When she finally reached the archway, Elrond leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"I am so proud of you, my daughter. Just let me know if he ever makes you unhappy," he said softly, touching her face gently. Morithawen hugged him tightly for a moment and then he pulled away, taking her hand and placing it in Legolas'. As the two elves stood side by side, the flowers blooming overhead seemed to rustle in the wind, bending to get closer to the combined glow of the couple on the dais. Morithawen reached up to touch Legolas' face, her smile of joy reflected in his eyes.

'Forever, _meleth-nin_?'

'Forever and always, _A'mael-nin_."

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